


Falling Down

by rose_malmaison



Category: NCIS
Genre: 3x08, Angst, Episode Tag, Hurt/Comfort, Light Bondage, M/M, Pre-Slash, Romance, Season 3, Sexual Content, Slash, Tibbs, Under Covers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 15:47:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 36,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rose_malmaison/pseuds/rose_malmaison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Tony is hurt in an undercover op (Under Covers), Gibbs makes it his personal business to take care of his agent. Tony discovers he's attracted to his boss and invites him to spend a weekend away with him even though he is afraid it won't work out. This is a romance!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Falling Down  
> Author: rose_malmaison  
> Rating: FRAO  
> Warnings: M/M, sexual situations, mild bondage, molestation in flashback, language  
> Spoilers: Tag to Under Covers, 3x08  
> Genre: Pre-slash, angst, romance, first time, h/c  
> Pairing: DiNozzo/Gibbs  
> Word count: 30,000 in 9 chapters - complete  
> Disclaimer: Using the characters for further exploration  
> For: Boat, Bourbon, Basement 2 Zine in print, 2011: http://www.ancientsgate.com/zines/ncis_slash2.html - This is the edited and expanded version.  
> Betas: Annie B, combatcrazy
> 
> [](http://ncis-fan-awards.livejournal.com/profile)

 

**Chapter 1 - Falling**

 

_A brave man struggling in the storms of fate,  
and greatly falling with a falling state._

_~ Alexander Pope (1688-1744)_

 

***–***

 

Tony strained against the bindings that secured his arms to the heavy chair, and kicked the man lying prone at his feet, shouting, "How does that feel? Huh? Huh, big guy?" 

  
As if from a distance he heard Ziva calling out, "Enough!"

    

***–***

 

Abby hugged him with a bit too much fervor, and Ducky prodded and poked unnecessarily, and prescribed scotch and aspirin, but Tony put their minds at ease by reassuring them he was still alive and kicking.

 

***–***

 

"Someone responsible has to keep an eye on you, DiNozzo."

 

"I'll take him home, Boss," McGee volunteered.

 

Tony insisted that he was going to his own apartment; he refused to be coerced into going to Gibbs' home. For once he dug in his heels. He needed to recuperate at his own place and for a change he did not require, or want, Gibbs to watch over him. Surprisingly, Gibbs backed off as soon as Tony made it clear he had no intention of going home with him. Although Tony was suspicious that his boss was up to something, his brain wasn't working in a linear manner. Guess that's what happens when you're beaten up, and then dosed with pain-killing drugs that you didn't ask for.

 

Before they left the Navy Yard, Gibbs handed McGee Tony's newly filled prescriptions along with verbal instructions. It was telling that the entire team knew medical directives for concussions, gunshots and other trauma better than some first-year residents in the ER. McGee paid strict attention to everything Gibbs said, as if he was a babysitter being left with a troublesome child and he wanted to make sure he got the kid's bedtime right.

 

Tony shook his head at the sight of Gibbs passing the torch to McGee, even if his skull felt as though it was about to split wide open at any minute. "There will be a pop quiz later, McDoctor," Tony said with a loopy smile, slinging his arm over Tim's shoulders and pretending he didn't need the support the younger man offered.

 

***–***

 

By the time they finally got to his beloved Mustang, Tony was drained and just about ready to collapse. He was so out of it from the shot they'd given him in the ER that he barely noticed when McGee buckled him into the passenger seat. Tim drove at a steady pace and handled her gears smoothly, so Tony had no complaints.

 

***–***

 

Next thing Tony knew he was stripped down to his underwear (he was **almost** positive McBashful had not been the one to undress him) and he was tucked into bed. Tony sighed with relief - there was nothing like his own bed with its high thread-count sheets and memory-foam mattress. His head, raised by two fat pillows, was woozy from the bedtime pills that Tim had made him take but at least he was comfortable for the first time in hours.

 

As he lay there, thinking back, Tony wasn't sure how he'd been coerced into taking the meds but then he vaguely recalled Tim saying something about being practiced at pilling cats. Tony accused, "That doc shot me up wi' somethin', 'Gee." When they were in the ER Gibbs had distracted Tony long enough for the overly tired doc to stick a honking great needle deep into the thigh of his reluctant, and squirming, patient. It was at that point Tony had called Gibbs a bastard and had refused to go anywhere with him. "They ganged up on me, Timmy. Gibbs doesn't play fair."

 

"Just get some rest, Tony," Tim said, pulling the comforter up to cover Tony's bare chest. "I'll be waking you soon enough. Better brush up on all the past presidents' names." Tim turned out all the lights except for a small one by the bedside and quietly slipped out, leaving the door ajar.

 

At some point during the night, Tony had a vague, faraway feeling that someone insistently shook his shoulder and shouted at him to wake up. No way could he summon the strength to open his eyes, or even grunt a reply, and eventually the annoying shaking stopped.

 

***–***

 

There was a terrible pain in his chest. Through the fog Tony realized someone was rubbing his breastbone hard with bony knuckles. He raised a hand to ward off his assailant. "Don't," he mumbled, frowning with annoyance.

 

"DiNozzo!"

 

A hand slapped his cheek and then shook his shoulder more vigorously. "Cut it out," Tony grumbled. He opened his eyes a crack to find Gibbs was looking down at him. Even with his bleary vision he could make out the worry on his boss's face.

 

"Tony, wake up!"

 

_God, please stop shouting._ "Onitboss." Maybe now he'd go away. Tony could just about make out Tim peering around Gibbs' shoulder to get a better view, as if Tony was the main attraction in a circus sideshow.

 

Tim asked, "You want me to try again to get hold of Ducky, Boss?"

 

McGee sounded concerned, but Tony imagined it was simply Probie being his usual probie self. Tony blinked at the two men hovering over him and groaned, "I'mmmfine."

 

Gibbs half-smiled with what appeared to be relief. "Oh yeah? Who's the President?"

 

"Prez? Of whah? Teamsters? Ron Carey. Nashn'l Football–"

 

"Of the United States, DiNozzo!"

 

McGee said worriedly, "Ducky's still not answering. He must have turned his phone off when he went to the ball with the director."

 

"Birthday Ball…" Tony said with a smile and started humming.

 

"What's my middle name?" Gibbs demanded.

 

Tony chuckled. "Bastard." There, he'd said that without slurring too much, he thought, inordinately proud of himself.

 

"He doesn't sound all that lucid, Boss," Tim said worriedly.

 

"Hell, he sounds normal to me," Gibbs said with a smile in his voice.

 

"Mmmmfine." Tony turned over, away from the light.

 

***–***

 

He was dying, no doubt about it. His head felt like it was about to explode and he was positive his eyeballs were going to pop out of their sockets and roll around on the floor screaming in agony any moment now. The image was so real Tony panicked and raised his hands to his face just to make sure everything was still in its proper place. Damn meds were messing with his brain. He sighed with relief even if his face hurt like a bitch and he really needed to take a piss even if he couldn’t make himself get up. He opened one eye and squinted around the bedroom. It was still dark out and the small bedside lamp behind him was the only source of light. He couldn’t hold it any longer, had to get to the bathroom.

 

With a moan Tony started to roll over, but came to an abrupt halt when he encountered a hard body in bed next to him. What the hell? Without looking, he let his hand meander and discovered a nicely muscled thigh encased in sweatpants. He was feeling around a bit more when a strong hand clamped on his forearm and prevented any further exploration.

 

"You looking for something special, DiNozzo?"

 

"Boss?" Tony peered over his shoulder and saw Gibbs was sitting on his bed like he belonged there, reading glasses perched on his nose and an open book in his hands. "You're in my bed," Tony said stupidly. A flush rose to color his cheeks when he realized that his hand was resting on Gibbs' crotch; he could feel the ridge of a penis under his thumb. He pulled his arm back quickly, out of Gibbs' grasp. "Thought you were McGee. Not that I'd grope McGee or anything…or that he's anything like you…not that I know what you feel like…well I do now…but I…uh…"

 

Gibbs snorted. "Nope, I am not McGee." Removing his glasses and tossing them and his book on the bedside table, Gibbs slipped off the bed and asked, "Gotta use the head?"

 

Tony nodded, which proved to be a mistake because it not only hurt - a lot - but it set off a wave of dizziness. He waited a couple of moments, half-blinded by a stabbing pain in his head, and then slowly sat up with a groan. Squinting against the light, Tony complained, "Knew you couldn’t leave me alone in my own bed for long." As soon as the words were out he realized they were just wrong, but he wasn't in any shape to make a follow-up joke. "God, I'm a mess," he groaned.

 

"Ya think?"

 

Gibbs came around to Tony's side of the bed, pulled the covers back, and attempted to help Tony get out bed. Tony rebuffed any assistance with a vague wave of his hand. He somehow got to his feet on his own but immediately stumbled into Gibbs' supportive arms.

 

"Give it up, Tony. You're too unsteady." Gibbs displayed an unusual air of patience when he said persuasively, "Let me help."

 

Tony allowed Gibbs to slip an arm around his waist but all the same grumbled under his breath. Not that he wasn't glad to have a solid body to lean upon; it was just that he didn't feel right about Gibbs seeing him being so damned weak. Well, it had happened before and no doubt it would happen again.

 

They made it to the bathroom, and Tony was able to stand in front of the toilet bowl only for a few seconds before he listed dangerously to one side. Gibbs immediately steadied him and enveloped him in a no-nonsense hug from behind. The undershirt that Gibbs wore did little to prevent Tony from feeling the heat coming off his body. Gibbs might be acting all matter-of-fact about this close encounter but it was stirring an unbidden reaction from Tony's body, making his breath quicken and his cheeks grow hot. "I'm okay now," Tony said in an unconvincingly weak croak.

 

Gibbs voice, very close to his ear, assured him, "Just do what you need to do. I gotcha."

 

Objecting a little under his breath about the firm grip around his middle, but in reality feeling way too unsteady on his feet to stand on his own, Tony did his business with his eyes half-closed. Being physically supported was embarrassing especially when it was Gibbs' warm breath on that sensitive spot just behind his ear that always got him all hot and bothered, that was making his knees so damned weak. As soon as he finished urinating Tony tidied up and shuffled over to the sink to wash his hands. He splashed some cool water on his overheated face and sighed in relief. Gibbs stayed close behind him, but his grip had loosened.

 

"Don't get your bandages wet," Gibbs said as a reminder.

 

Both of Tony's wrists were wrapped in lots of white gauze and for the first time he took notice of how sore they were. The anesthetic must have worn off. He remembered then that he'd had stitches in the left wrist, which had been cut deeply by the bindings during his struggle to free himself. The right, the doc had said, wasn't as bad. Tony remembered Gibbs being there in the ER, his hand on Tony's shoulder throughout, making sure he'd received the best of care. He'd stayed by Tony's side through the CAT scan and had helped to field the all-too familiar questions the ER nurse had asked.

 

_"I see two fingers, I got no allergies, and yeah I've been in a hospital overnight recently. Hey Boss, was that for the gunshot, the concussion, or the plague?"_  

 

Tony accepted a towel that Gibbs handed him and carefully dried his face. "Thanks," he said.

 

Gibbs grunted in reply.

 

"For being there," Tony felt compelled to add, even though he had a pretty good idea that Gibbs knew what he meant.

 

Strong arms slid around Tony's bare waist, tightened a little and then loosened, and it took Tony a moment to comprehend that was Gibbs' version of a hug. It made him smile even if having Gibbs hugging him when he was loopy and half-naked was sort of awkward. Tony was still trying to think of something witty to say, though his mind was as slow as molasses from the meds, when he looked up and caught sight of his reflection in the mirror over the sink. He stared at his messed-up face and asked, only half-joking, "Who the hell is that?"

 

The left side of his mouth, and the nearby cheek and jaw, were swollen and turning a dark shade of plum. Tony raised a hand to his bruised and swollen face and grunted at the resulting pain. No wonder he'd been mumbling. Even his teeth were loose, damn it. There was a cut under his right eyebrow and he'd be lucky if he didn't end up with one hell of a shiner on his left eye. "Jesus, **please** tell me I killed that asshole." Tony ran a hand over his aching ribs and belly, avoiding touching Gibbs' arms as he did so. There were bruises on his left side and his stomach was coloring up from being used as Cord's punching bag. He looked past his mirrored self to see Gibbs' face was dark with anger.

 

"You damned well **tried** to kill him," Gibbs said in a growl. "Next time, do it right. And don't wear those fancy shoes."

 

Tony drew a blank and then remembered he'd been wearing Gucci loafers. Too bad they hadn't been steel-toed boots. "You should've let me finish the job," Tony said, remembering how he'd been interrupted while trying to kick Cord to death. He could see that Gibbs was still angry at what had gone down in the hotel room, and about how close both he and Ziva had come to being kimbo-sliced. Well, he was pretty pissed about the whole 'tie DiNozzo up and work him over real good' thing himself. Tony looked away from Gibbs' reflected face and leaned towards the mirror in order to gingerly pull back his lip and check out his teeth, flinching at the mess inside his cheek.

 

"I should have finished Siazon and his men off myself." Gibbs reached out and laid a hand on Tony's arm. "Stop touching your face, Tony." He moved both of his hands to Tony's bare shoulders but as he seemed to have recovered some of his equilibrium, the touch was light. He rubbed Tony's muscles a bit and asked sympathetically, "You okay?"

 

"I will be when the drum corps gets outta my head," Tony mumbled with a vague attempt at a smile, very much aware of Gibbs' warm hands against his bare skin. Gibbs was standing so close behind him that Tony could smell his scent - sweat and spice mingling with the ever-present aroma of coffee - and all of a sudden he found himself getting hot. He met Gibbs' eyes in the mirror, so blue and full of concern that Tony's heart quickened, to beat a lively tempo within his chest, and he had trouble catching his breath. Gibbs' warm smile deepened and merely seeing it was enough to make Tony's dick twitch of its own accord. _Whoa, down boy! What the hell was that about?_ It wasn't like Tony to react sexually to any man, much less to his boss, for chrissake.

 

Tony leaned against the bathroom cabinet, evening out his breathing, hoping that Gibbs didn't catch on to what was happening. God, this was mortifying. Had to do something… He closed his eyes and pictured someone else touching him - Mrs. Mallard - there, that did it. A couple of deep inhalations and Tony was able to conjure up a sort-of-smile. It was pitiful but under the circumstances it was the best he could do. Gibbs was looking him over, concerned, so Tony made the excuse, "Headache. There's a majorette bangin' away on the biggest drum you've ever seen. Think I better get some sleep, Boss."

 

Gibbs made a huffing sound, apparently amused. "How short is her skirt?"

 

"Real short, and she's really cute." Tony laughed goofily and winced at the pain that shot through his mouth. "Ow."

 

"C'mon. Bed. And stop smiling, DiNozzo."

 

"Smiling's good for you. That's what Abby says. Lowers your blood pressure. You should try it sometime, Boss," Tony said with a sideways glance at Gibbs, who did not follow his advice. Then it was back to bed with Gibbs hovering all the way, and Tony was more than glad to be lying down once again. How could getting beaten up make him so damned tired? The trouble was that after his excursion to the bathroom he was wide awake. Gibbs handed him a glass of water and some aspirin, and assessed Tony while he swallowed the pills and then drank thirstily. After Tony was finished and put the glass aside, he reclined on a pile of pillows and watched Gibbs making himself comfortable next to him, on top of the covers.

 

***–***TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 - Confessions**

 

_Confess your faults one to another, and pray one for another, that ye may be healed.  
~ James 5:16_

 

The silver-haired man looked like he belonged there, in Tony's bed, which was unsettling enough to cause his heart to thump a fast tango in his chest. Was this some kind of bi-curious fantasy he was playing out during his waking hours? Maybe hallucinations caused by the narcotics he'd taken? That was a good excuse as any, because if it was wishful thinking, it could never become a reality.

 

He'd heard about straight men who had sex with other men but still considered themselves straight. And, according to GSM, apparently guys who have a high sex drive ( _Anthony DiNozzo, please raise your hand_ ) often look at men as sex objects but don't necessarily want to get into anything deep with them, like a relationship. _God, don't even think that word!_ Talk about red rag to a bull. Hell, he hadn't had a so-called relationship with any woman that lasted more than a couple of dates, with the rare exception, and even then he'd messed up somehow. Short term was the way to go. No deep involvement - that was the DiNozzo creed. So did that mean he was looking at Gibbs as a potential fuck-buddy? Hell no, he had never thought of him that way and wasn't about to start now. DiNozzos were not into men, no matter how alpha, compelling, and damned sexy they might be.

 

Tony covered his eyes with his forearm, trying to banish the visions that were playing in his mind - a triple-x film starring one Leroy Jethro Gibbs, wearing only a pair of very low-slung combat pants and a leather shoulder holster, his hairy chest gleaming with sweat. Tony had once typed Gibbs' name into one of those porn name generators on the Web, and the resulting 'Uncle Spankalicious' had him chuckling on and off all week. Of course he'd tried his own name and it became an embarrassing 'Hugh Cucumber.' Timothy McGee was 'Gunnar Pickle,' which he'd gleefully revealed to McGee just to see him color up.

 

Maybe these forbidden, it's-a-just-plain-bad-idea thoughts were due to Gibbs having been unusually hands-on tonight but even so, Tony was positive that the ex-Marine didn't have a homosexual urge in his body. Gibbs was only being protective, making sure that his agent got through the night all right. It was what Gibbs did. There had been nothing sexual in the way he had touched Tony's bare skin, or intimate in the way he'd held him in his muscular arms. He was helping Tony out when he was hurting, that was all.

 

The strange thing was that it looked as though Tony, or his dick - which had proved too many times to count that it had a mind of its own - was certainly interested in being touched by Gibbs. Was this…attraction…if that's what it was, some sort of reaction triggered by Gibbs coming to his rescue during the undercover operation? Being tied up and helpless, did that turn Tony's crank? Maybe this was some sort of gay twist on hero worship. Yeah, Tony mused, Gibbs fit the role of a hero easily enough. Rescuing Tony, taking him to bed, lying with him under the covers to keep him warm, stroking Tony's back, comforting him, nestling naked close behind him, hot and aroused with his dick pressing between Tony's butt cheeks, demanding entrance….God, what was he thinking? He'd never - **ever** \- had such thoughts about Gibbs before and they **had** to stop. _Stop! Right now!_

 

Tony lowered his arm from his face and slipped a hand under the bedcovers to pinch the head of his dick - hard - in order to make it behave. When he'd recovered he found that Gibbs was looking at him strangely. Hoping that Gibbs hadn't seen his hand-action under the sheet, Tony cleared his throat and quickly thought of something to say, taking care to enunciate his words through his puffy lips. "Wha' happened to McGee?"

 

"I sent him home. He was tired." Gibbs gave Tony a once-over. "Are you all right? You look a little flushed."

 

"Fine," Tony insisted in a voice that sounded a little high even to him, giving the most convincing look of innocence he could muster. He pulled the comforter a little higher and smiled. "Nice and toasty."

 

"Hmmm." Gibbs leaned against the headboard, picked up his book and started reading as if it was the most natural thing in the world for him to be in Tony's bed. Technically he was _on_ the bed rather than in it, but Tony had a very clear image of Gibbs, naked, under the sheets, pressing his length against his body. No, he did not think of Gibbs that way, not at all. Did not, would not, _could_ _not_. Tony closed his eyes and told himself firmly he wasn't about to start now, that this aberration in his behavior was entirely due to the drugs he'd taken and because of Gibbs' close proximity and the way he was being nice. See, it was all Gibbs' fault. He shouldn't be nice; it made the world tilt off its natural axis. Gibbs + nice = bad.

 

Maybe if Gibbs sacked out on the couch in the other room, it would be okay. "Aren't you tired? My couch is really good for sleeping on," Tony suggested.

 

Considering his boss had been awake and monitoring the undercover operation at the Barclay Hotel for the past two days, from both within MTAC and in person, night and day, he looked pretty damned good. Gibbs was dressed in comfortable-looking sweatpants and a snug white undershirt that showed off the well-muscled torso he kept hidden at work under layers of shirts and loose sports coats. If Tony raised his head a little he could make out two little peaks in the taut white undershirt that indicated the location of Gibbs' nipples. Gibbs turned the page of his book and absently scratched his chest, fingernails scraping over one of those little lumps, making it perk up even more, and Tony quickly looked away. Gibbs had kept his socks on and Tony could make out a small hole in one of them, exposing the tip of his little toe. For some reason the sight seemed rather intimate and Tony swallowed hard. He figured that if he was ogling Gibbs' physique and found the sight of his little toe sexy then maybe there was something seriously wrong with him.

 

Gibbs looked his way absently and replied, "Tired? Nope. You gotta know how to pace yourself. Besides, I've been drinking coffee non-stop for days and I'm well caffeinated. Couldn't sleep listening to Ziva's snores anyway." Gibbs put his book and reading glasses aside.

 

"Yeah, her snores are enough to keep the dead awake."

 

Gibbs stared at Tony as if undecided about speaking, but then he said, "McGee couldn’t wake you up and he…got worried."

 

"You mean McWorry-wart panicked." Tony could just see it: when McGee couldn't reach Ducky on his cell phone he had called Gibbs right away. "Sorry 'bout that. You didn't have to come and check on me." Gibbs sent him a look that Tony couldn’t quite decipher. It might have been pity. Tony asked, "Is that the 'you're an idiot but I'll tolerate you' look that I get on the second date?" His swollen lips made some of the words come out slurred but on the whole he thought he was speaking pretty well for having been beaten up only a few hours ago.

 

"Since when do you have second dates?"

 

"Low blow, Boss." That hurt even though Tony had a hard time remembering the last time he'd been out on any date - first, second or otherwise. "I do…sometimes."

 

"Then I guess it's a 'you're an idiot but I'll tolerate you' look from your boss. McGee was about to call 911. Be glad he called me instead." He angled his head a little to get a better look at Tony's face. "You seem better now."

 

"Better?" How much better could he look if Gibbs was searching his face as if seeking confirmation his agent wasn't going to croak anytime soon? That furrow between Gibbs' eyebrows usually appeared when he was really annoyed or angry.

 

"Better, as in not breathing funny and being unresponsive," Gibbs said brusquely, apparently repeating what McGee had said to him over the phone. "He was concerned."

 

"You mean he was crying like a girl? Now I do feel better." Tony's laugh segued into a wince when his sore lips were stretched. He adjusted his head on the pillow, wondering what time it was but Gibbs was blocking his view of the alarm clock. That injection the doctor had given him had been too potent, and the pill chaser had made him feel as though he was walking on a swaying, spongy surface. Now he didn't feel like sleeping, or not with his eyes closed. His brain was running in circles and his body felt disconnected. Tony wiggled his fingers in front of his face to make sure they were still present and accounted for. "I'm still sorta loopy, Boss. Slaphappy. Punchy as a drunk. Loose as a goo–"

 

Gibbs interrupted, "Yeah, I can see that. And it's just after oh-one-hundred." He laid a warm hand on Tony's arm to stop his over-active hand motions. "Get some sleep, Tony."

 

"Okay," Tony said, even though he didn't think he could sleep knowing Gibbs was sharing a bed with him. Gibbs' hand was still on his arm, moving back and forth as if he was trying to soothe him or something. It was sort of weird, coming from Gibbs, but if this was the reward he had earned for getting smacked around some, it was worth it. Tony smiled to himself, feeling all warm inside. It was really nice to know that someone was watching his back, and especially when his protector was Gibbs. "S'nice, Boss," he mumbled.

 

Gibbs picked up his book with his free hand and ordered, "Sleep."

 

***–***

 

Gibbs' phone rang and he answered it with his free hand without releasing his gentle hold on Tony's arm. Tony could tell that it was Ducky on the other end from Gibbs' manner - friendly yet subtly respectful. "He's doing okay. Yeah, I'm taking care of him." Gibbs' fingers slipped closer to the inside of Tony's wrist, just above the white bandage, and after a few moments he said, "No, it's steady. Probably…" He glanced at Tony and chuckled. "I will, Ducky." After Gibbs ended his call with an abrupt snap and put the phone aside, he looked down at Tony again and saw he was being watched. "You're not even trying to sleep," he said sharply, never taking his eyes off him.

 

Tony rolled onto his side with a sigh, away from Gibbs' piercing gaze. Gibbs' hand slipped from his arm and Tony keenly felt the loss of their tenuous connection. He spent a while remembering everything that had gone down during the undercover operation, starting with the briefing beforehand. It was his own version of counting sheep.

 

After a time Tony said quietly, "I can't…I can't stop thinking 'bout it, Boss." It was always this way, playing and replaying a bad case, or an undercover op, in his head once he'd returned to the real world. Like a film with instant replay, only it kept on looping and there was no way of shutting it off. Normally it took a couple of days for it to stop and even then he'd have dreams that were distorted enough to classify as nightmares. This is why he needed to be in his own, familiar apartment, to feel secure and to become grounded again.

 

"Stop thinking so hard. Time to put it away for the night. Everyone did a good job. You should have seen McGee playing 'possum," Gibbs said with a smile in his voice. "Even Fornell came away happy with Siazon in custody, and he's not an easy man to please."

 

Tony fiddled with the edge of the pillowcase and looked at the dark recesses of his room, thinking they were lucky to have come out alive considering that all communication was lost when he and Ziva were forced into Siazon's hotel room. He didn't know what made him open his big mouth, but he told Gibbs, "Sometimes I get off on being tied up, you know?" Tony tried to picture Gibbs secured by fur-lined handcuffs but that image didn't sit right. Now…a pair of sturdy leather cuffs…Gibbs buckling them onto Tony's wrists, that was more like it.

 

From behind him Gibbs asked, "Leather?"

 

Tony's stomach clenched. Had he spoken aloud or was Gibbs psychic, like Abby kept insisting he was? He had the impression Gibbs had put his book down and Tony could feel those blue eyes boring into his back. Unsure, Tony whispered, "What'd you say?"

 

"In a job like ours, a man needs stress release of some kind, when things get bad," Gibbs said.

 

Stress relief - that was a good euphemism for kink. "Bet you've got some nice leather cuffs at home." Shit, it must have been the meds talking because Tony knew he'd never intentionally say anything like that to Gibbs. There was no reply so after a pause Tony admitted, in a small voice, "I really didn't like him tying me up, Boss." He felt his face flush from embarrassment even though Gibbs couldn't see him.

 

"I know how it is, Tony."

 

"I mean…I knew it was gonna happen as soon as he tied my arms to the chair: I got a boner." Then he said in a small voice, "He noticed it right away. Cord did." No response. Tony took a few breaths through his still-congested nose and waited. Without looking at Gibbs, Tony found it difficult to interpret how well his boss was accepting the confession, but he had the impression that it was rolling off Gibbs' shoulders. Tony said in a hushed voice, "He waited 'til Ziva was out of the room."

 

***–***

 

_//Did you know the Peruvians make blades so sharp, some people can’t even feel the initial incision?//_

 

Tony had known that he was going to get sliced and diced and left bleeding all over the Barclay Hotel's fine Aubusson carpet. At the time there was no doubt in his mind that he'd be dead long before any rescue arrived. It wasn't until much later on that Tony thought that if Gibbs had known what he'd been thinking he would have given him a whopping great slap to the head.

 

_//"Don't waste good."//_

 

He hadn't given up, just knew the reality of the situation, and accepted it. Hindsight was all very well, but at that moment, all Tony could think was thank God that Siazon had left with Ziva before one of the wicked-looking Peruvian blades cut into his flesh and he started screaming.

 

He'd thought, 'Shit, Gibbs is going to find me all cut up. Exsanguinated, as Ducky would say, and probably still sporting a friggin' hard-on.' He'd been petrified that Gibbs was going to find him in that state, and a great wave of anger suddenly rose because no way was he going to do that to Gibbs, no fucking way. Tony had said between clenched teeth, "That's my name. Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, NCIS," and he'd swung around with a shout and wielded the chair he was tied to like a weapon. Nobody could have been more surprised than he was when the big blond killer with the gleam in his eye, and a nasty looking knife clasped in his hand, fell on his face like a ton of bricks.

 

That's when the anger had really set in.

 

***–***

 

From the moment that Marcos Siazon and his men captured him and Ziva, Tony had fought every step of the way. When he was shoved, Tony DiNozzo pushed back. When questioned, he talked and talked their ears off without revealing much of anything, and when beaten by a ham-sized fist, he rolled with the punches. It was in keeping with the charade of being Jean-Paul Ranier, paid assassin, but it was also pure Tony DiNozzo.

 

The problem was that when he'd been physically subdued and tied securely to a sturdy chair, Tony's body had reacted against his will. Being tied up - or tied down - had always turned him on, and this time was no exception. It didn't matter if it was cuffs, leather, rope - his arousal was immediate. A few of his past sexual partners had been into some light bondage and it was always the same: show him some rope and his cock rose to the occasion. Tony didn't need to be restrained to get excited, but it was fun and a little kink went a long way as far as he was concerned. It was a small mercy that Ziva had been bound facing the opposite direction and had been unable to see what was going on between his hard-as-a-diamond dick and Cord, Siazon's strong-arm man. God, if she ever found out Tony would never hear the end of it.

 

Cord had noticed though, and had smirked knowingly at the bulge in Tony's pants. As soon as Siazon had taken Ziva from the hotel room in search of the disk the assassin wanted so badly, the muscle-bound man had moved right in to take advantage of Tony's immobility. He'd groped and leered and taken way too much pleasure when Tony's dick had reacted to the unwanted fondling.

 

Tony had endured it because there wasn't much else he could do, but even if his body reacted, his mind had been aloof. It was like he was separated from it, an observer, albeit an unwilling one. More abhorrent than the molestation was the stupid smile on Cord's face. The guy had looked at Tony as if they were in on this together, as if Tony was somehow enjoying being assaulted, and that really pissed Tony off.

 

Cord's amusement hadn't lasted long because Tony had made a last-ditch, desperate move. Still bound to a pair of back-to-back chairs, Tony had used them as a weapon, rising on his feet to swing them around hard and fast. He'd caught Cord unawares, striking him across his thighs and sending him crashing him to the floor. As soon as he'd gotten the better of Cord, Tony delivered a series of vicious kicks to the scumbag's head, his pent-up anger breaking loose and burning so brightly it made his head ache with its intensity.

 

Next thing Tony knew, Ziva was shouting, "Enough!"

 

***–***

 

A gentle hand settled on his bare shoulder. There was a squeeze, just a reassuring, compassionate touch, telling Tony all he needed to know.

 

Gibbs said in a low voice, "There's no shame in your body responding to a situation that was forced upon you. You know that."

 

Tony took in a ragged breath and nodded. He wanted to turn over and see Gibbs but he couldn’t, not yet. "It's not just that. I hated losing control to them. I just kept talking and pushing but when I was left alone with Cord I sort of…lost it. I don't even remember what happened next, only that I found myself kicking the shit out of him. I…I was trying to kill him, Boss."

 

"It's all right. You did good, Tony, but remember rule number eleven. Walk away when it's finished." Gibbs gave a gentle squeeze to the back of Tony's neck before running his hand through his hair. Tony closed his eyes and fell asleep to the rhythm of the soothing strokes.

 

***–***TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 - To Have and Have Not**

 

_Slim: I'm hard to get, Steve. All you have to do is ask me._

_Steve: You know what you're getting into. It's gonna be rough._

_~ from the film 'To Have and Have Not' (1944)_

 

The next morning Tony reluctantly opened his eyes and was glad to discover he was alone. He needed some time to himself in order to adjust, to get back to normal, and he couldn’t do it while under the watchful gaze of his boss, or anyone else for that matter. They all meant well but he would recover faster if left alone.

 

After assessing his aches and pains, which were, unfortunately, just about as bad as he'd expected, Tony closed his eyes and tried to recall his conversation with Gibbs the night before. His face grew hot with embarrassment as it all came back to him. Had he really asked Gibbs if he owned leather cuffs? What had he been thinking? And he'd revealed how that goon Cord had fondled him and how he'd reacted and…oh _God_. Maybe he could he blame the prescription drugs he'd taken.

 

Tony let out a long groan and rubbed his eyes, forgetting momentarily about the damage to his face. "Ooow." His face was sore, as if it had been someone's punching bag. Which it had been, Tony thought with a grimace. Stomach was tender, wrists felt raw. His ribs hurt, too, but the pain was manageable – if he didn't breathe too deeply. Nothing that wouldn't heal in a few days, or heal enough so that he could get back to work.

 

There were voices coming from the kitchen and the sound of breakfast being made. Oh shit, not alone after all. Tony sniffed. Coffee brewing and…bacon? The bedroom door opened slowly and the head that appeared did not belong to Gibbs. Tony asked, "Palmer?"

 

When he saw Tony was awake, the Jimmy Palmer flashed a sympathetic smile and stepped into the bedroom. "Hey, how're you doing?" he asked in a soft voice.

 

"Be okay once I'm up," Tony said groggily although he made no move to get out of bed.

 

"Agent Gibbs is leaving as soon as he's finished breakfast and his _fourth_ cup of coffee, and I've been recruited to keep you company today," Palmer reported cheerfully while he opened the curtains. "Breakfast and medication at 0800, per Dr. Mallard's orders."

 

Tony raised one hand against the sunlight and winced. He suspected the orders were really Gibbs' orders via Ducky, and then delivered to Palmer.

 

Gibbs came in, walked directly to the bedside and looked Tony over with a frown. "You alive, DiNozzo?"

 

Feeling a distinct unease at Gibbs' stare, Tony pulled the sheet up to his neck. "I'm happy to report that I survived the night, Boss," he said with a small laugh. Tony tried to get a feel from Gibbs' expression as to whether he'd crossed one of those unwritten lines the night before, but Gibbs wasn't giving anything away. He was wearing an oddly neutral expression, but just the same he was staring at Tony in a way that was making him more uncomfortable by the second. "Think I can get some breakfast?" Tony asked with what he hoped was a winning smile.

 

Jimmy looked from Gibbs to Tony, and back again. "Uh, I'll go and cook some eggs or something," he said nervously, and slipped out.

 

Contrary to Tony's expectations, Gibbs didn't leave. Instead he sat on the edge of the bed, and Tony could feel the iron muscle of his thigh against his, even with the bedding between them. Gibbs was dressed for work and smelled of Tony's expensive soap and, of course, coffee. Before Tony could shift away, Gibbs stuck a couple of fingers Tony's chin and moved his head from one side to the other so he could inspect the previous day's damage. Tony tried not to pull away or wince but it wasn't easy.

 

Gibbs made a small grunt of dissatisfaction and his brows drew together in anger. "He got you good, DiNozzo. I want you to take it easy today. Stay in bed, take care of that concussion. Let Palmer help you. You think you can do that?"

 

Taken aback by Gibbs asking instead of telling him what to do, Tony asked cautiously, "How come you're not ordering me around? I mean you're being…nice." He made _nice_ sound like a dirty word.

 

"So? I can't be nice? There's a time and a place for everything." Gibbs gave Tony a crooked smile and patted his leg. "I'll call later. See how you're doing."

 

"Are you coming back?" Tony asked plaintively, hating the whiney sound in his voice. He found himself wondering if he could get used to nice Gibbs because even if gruff Gibbs was the norm, there was something very appealing about those blue eyes softening when they looked at him.

 

"I'll come around after work," Gibbs assured him, shaking his head and smiling as if he knew something Tony didn't.

 

Once Gibbs was gone Tony lay in bed wondering why Gibbs had been so good to him last night, and so damned _understanding_ , and why his smiles seemed to be more frequent and a whole hell of a lot brighter than usual.

 

It couldn't be that Gibbs was feeling responsible for him being hurt while on his watch, could it? It wasn't as if Tony had never been injured before – and on occasion his injuries were a lot worse than a few bruises – but even so, Gibbs had never stayed overnight, and he'd certainly never been _nice_. Sure, the undercover op hadn't gone exactly as planned but it had worked out in the end: bad guys were locked up, good guys were not dead. Tony couldn't see any reason for Gibbs to be so damned attentive. Not that he was complaining, mind you. He just wasn't used to it.

 

After a while, Tony admitted to himself that he liked that Gibbs had watched over him last night. Plus his body had _really_ liked being supported by Gibbs' muscular arms, as evidenced by his boner. No, he hadn't minded being touched by Gibbs' calloused and strong – yet surprisingly gentle – hands. Not that Tony would ever admit any of that to anyone. If Tony had ever indulged in any fantasies about Gibbs, they had been fleeting and they had been quickly and ruthlessly squashed. It was just that he didn't...he _couldn't_ think of Gibbs in sexual terms. After all, the man was his boss and there were some lines that neither of them would ever cross. There was a good reason for those rules that Gibbs was famous for. The two of them had to work together, for God's sake.

 

Just the same, Tony knew that Gibbs cared about him, and naturally he reciprocated. Neither of them ever said anything aloud about how they felt about each other. They weren't the kind of guys to reveal their feelings, after all. Once in a great while there might be a manly clap on the shoulder, or a brief hug with faces turned away, which was totally acceptable in their federal-cop world. It was left unspoken, and that was how it should be. Tony expected nothing more.

 

There was no point in thinking of, or yearning for, something you could never - never _ever_ \- have.

 

Besides, Gibbs showed how he felt in small ways. Like when they worked long hours, if he noticed that Tony was running on empty he would drop some food or drink on Tony's desk. Or…he would share, without any fuss, an after-hours beer and a steak. Gibbs would offer a place to crash for the night, like when Tony appeared at his house in need of company after a particularly bad case. Gibbs cared about and protected all of his agents in an unwavering always-there-for-you Gibbs kind of way. There was no way that Tony was going to jeopardize any of that, even if…if he had to admit that his own feelings ran deep.

 

It was Gibbs who had, from day one, taught Tony the ropes and kept him in line with the Gibbs-version of tough love. It was Gibbs who was always there to provide a steady hand and a protective presence in both good times and bad. Their relationship was hard to define - on both work and personal levels - but to Tony, knowing that Gibbs was there for him, _no matter what_ , meant more to him than he could ever say. Yes, Gibbs was his colleague, his boss, but he was also his friend and his only family, too. He was, simply, everything to Tony.

 

Gibbs might have a hard time showing how much he cared about anyone but it was there in his blue eyes, and written all over his face if you knew how to interpret his expression. The question that was now bugging Tony was how much did Gibbs care, and in what way? His actions last night, and again this morning had surprised Tony, and they seemed to suggest that something important had changed between them.

 

Now that Tony thought about it, it seemed that their relationship had been changing in subtle ways over the past few months, ever since Kate's death, and the events of this latest undercover assignment had somehow caused things to shift significantly. It was those seismic plates, sliding sideways, making their footing unsure – a warning of far greater changes to come.

 

And now Gibbs was smiling and…being nice. Gibbs had changed. He'd…

 

"Oh no! No, no, no." Tony sat up in bed, arms wrapped around his fragile ribs. It wasn't _Gibbs_ who had changed, it was _him_ and his feelings for Leroy Jethro Gibbs just might run a lot deeper than he'd imagined. Tony ran a hand through his hair and wondered why it was that he'd never seen what was right before his eyes, in his own traitorous heart. He closed his eyes and muttered, "Oh man, now I'm totally screwed."

 

***–***

 

It turned out that Palmer was a pretty good caretaker. The young man fed Tony scrambled eggs and buttered toast at the kitchen table, which he ate slowly and with exaggerated care. His mouth hurt too badly to eat any of the bacon that was offered, though. 

 

After breakfast Palmer checked on Tony's injuries, and although he wanted to assist Tony with getting dressed, his offer was politely yet firmly declined. Jimmy pressed a couple of pain pills into his unwilling patient's palm and managed to get him to take the medicine. Tony's protests that he didn't need any meds fell on deaf ears. Not surprisingly, it turned out that Palmer was a lot more scared of the Gibbs-and-Ducky team than he'd ever be of Tony.

 

Although Tony had planned to spend the day watching TV and reading, after breakfast he wasn't feeling great and ended up going back to bed.

 

When he awoke at mid-day feeling groggy, he wandered out to the living room to find Jimmy working on his laptop with a huge medical book in front of him. "Have to study," Jimmy explained. "Exams. You want lunch?" It really wasn't a question. After cajoling Tony to drink a protein shake, Palmer cleaned up the small kitchen and went back to his studies.

 

Tony tried to act like he was fine, but his head felt like it was the size of a basketball and his ribs were aching badly, and Palmer wasn't easily fooled. "Back to bed. You have a concussion." Tony grumbled but complied because he was a bit dizzy and knew that he needed some more sleep to get over this.

 

By the afternoon Tony was tired of lying in bed doing nothing. Once he made sure he was able to move around without his head spinning, he pulled on a warm sweater, taking care not to let the wool scrape his damaged face, and joined Palmer in the living room. "Mind if I watch TV?" Tony asked as he picked up the remote and plopped down on the large sofa with a sigh.

 

"I don't mind, Tony. If your head aches you should rest your eyes."

 

"I'm a lot better," said Tony, and it was the truth. "I can listen to _Magnum_ if my eyes get tired."

 

"Nice sofa, by the way," Jimmy said as he caressed the leather couch absently, never taking his eyes off the book he was studying.

 

When Tony had finally moved out enough of his previous rattrap of an apartment, he'd decided to spend the extra bucks needed to get a decent place to live. He'd been lucky to find a relatively new third-floor condo unit that came with a secure parking space and an elevator. After living there for a few months he decided it was the best move he'd ever made - with the exception of when he had walked out of his father's house at age eighteen and never looked back.

 

His big living room was simply furnished, with a huge leather couch the center of attention. Shelving that held his books and DVDs took up an entire wall and his plasma TV occupied another. A large, mostly red, abstract painting that he'd inherited from his mother _("Don't you adore Rothko, Anthony?"_ ) and a series of his own black and white photos of Italy that he'd taken as a teenager, were all that prevented his apartment from looking sparse. The sizable picture window offered a good view of the city and a glimpse of a park below, now bare in the early November chill. The small, modern kitchen had a table for two and was open to the living room so one could serve drinks to guests across the granite-topped island.

 

Not that Tony had invited any guests over since he'd moved in. It was hard to explain, but he didn't like sharing something so personal as his own space with anyone he worked with. His apartment was his refuge, and when he came off a heavy assignment he needed to be in his own place, amongst his own things. His first and only visitors had been the night before: McGee and Gibbs. They, and now Jimmy, were gatecrashers, unwelcome even if their intentions were good.

 

Tony sighed and relaxed into the welcoming comfort that his sofa provided. He had spent more than had been prudent on this particular piece of furniture, but he'd never regretted purchasing it. L-shaped and with extra ottomans, there was enough room for more than one person to sleep comfortably upon it.

 

"You like it?" Tony stretched out with a happy moan. "Bought this couch when I was dating a girl who worked for a furniture importer," he said as he stroked the soft leather. "Italian. Sweet."

 

Jimmy glanced up at Tony. "You were able to communicate okay?" When Tony appeared puzzled he elaborated, "I mean do you speak fluent Italian?"

 

"Italian? Yeah, I do, but I meant the _couch_ was Italian, Palmer, not the girl." It took Jimmy a few seconds but when he got it he laughed and Tony couldn't help laughing along with him, feeling his spirits lighten a bit for the first time since they'd concluded the undercover operation.

 

"Um, Tony, can I ask you something?"

 

He wanted to know about the girl, of course. Mentally rolling his eyes, Tony said, "Okay, what do you want to know, Palmer? Her name was Adriana, her hair long and rich, dark brown, and her figure…"

 

Jimmy scooted closer on the couch and asked, his voice low as if it were a big secret, "Well, I wouldn’t ordinarily ask…but…I'm really getting off on the aroma of the leather from this couch, and I was wondering…Can I see your Italian leather shoes? Maybe touch them? Do you have any Giuseppe Barzaghi?"

 

Once Tony got over his amusement he waved a hand in the direction of his walk-in closet in the bedroom, with its multi-tiered shoe rack. "Sure, knock yourself out. Got some Gucci Beatles' boots on the bottom shelf." He called after Jimmy, "Just don't drool on the leather, Gremlin."

 

****–***

 

Later that afternoon, Palmer left for a pre-med class, after fondling all of Tony's imported shoes and basking in the aroma of the leather and exclaiming over the designers and their extraordinary skill. Tony was glad to be on his own - finally. He needed to have his wits about him when Gibbs came back, so first thing he did was brew up some dark, strong coffee, and drink two cups full. Gibbs was perceptive and it wouldn't do for him to get a whiff of Tony's attraction for him.

 

Tony was watching an action movie without much interest when the phone rang.

 

"Tony! Tony, we miss you!" It was Abby, who asked how he was and then proceeded to tell him all about the forensics of their recent case. She launched into details about the Raniers' bodies, and the microchip implanted on (the real) Sophie's eyeball, that he would rather have not heard about. Soon after he'd finished assuring Abby he was recovering well, and hung up, Ziva called to check on how he was doing. She asked if he'd be back at work the next day. "Sure thing," he said with confidence.

 

"I have completed my report and I am sitting here at my desk, and according to policy, I must have my head shrinked this afternoon," she complained. "They will not allow me to go into the field until I pass mustard. It is ridiculous! I have been in far worse situations and have come out with my head screwed onto my neck." There was a pause then Ziva asked, "That was incorrect, was it not?"

 

"Head screwed onto your shoulders. And it's passed muster, not mustard. Like a military review." Tony agreed about the mandatory visit to the shrink being unnecessary but he generally breezed through the sessions so it didn't worry him. After they'd completed their short conversation, and he'd hung up, Tony wondered how soon he could get cleared for fieldwork. Only two more weekdays and then, if they didn't catch a case, he'd have the weekend off. He'd get in some exercise, maybe some light jogging at the indoor track at the university gym. They had a pool, too, and after hours there weren't many people around so there'd be nobody to frighten when he bared his bruised torso. Okay, he had a plan. By Monday he'd be back to his usual form; he always bounced back.

 

***–***

 

Tony awoke with a headache and a stiff neck from sleeping crookedly on the couch. It was dark already; these short winter days were depressing but Tony only turned on a couple of lamps. The vestiges of a bad dream clung to him, though splashing cool water on his face helped him to freshen up a bit. He slumped once again on the couch and looked blankly at the old movie was that was playing on his widescreen TV, wondering if any amount of Tylenol would help his headache, or if he should give in and take something stronger. Before Tony could get up and look for the prescribed painkillers, his phone rang.

 

It was Palmer, just leaving his class and wanting to know if Tony needed him to come over and make him dinner.

 

"No, thanks. I can heat something up. Thanks for staying today. I mean, you didn't have to baby-sit me, you know, Jimmy."

 

Jimmy insisted it was his pleasure and said he'd be up late studying so Tony could call him for anything.

 

Just as Tony was about to get up and find some food, he got another call, this time from an old friend of his who lived close to DC.

 

"Hey, Tony. Look, I got the place at the beach for the weekend and I thought you might want to come along. I've got a couple of buddies who live out there year-round and they're up for a night of poker and drinking. Plus there are sure to be some girls hanging around waiting for the summer crowds to return and have nothing better to do than hook up with us old dudes."

 

"Gee, Doug, you make us sound like we're such catches," Tony said sarcastically. "Isn't it a bit cold for beach balls and babes?" He usually jumped at the chance to go to Doug's seaside cottage. He'd been there a handful of times before and really loved the area, but the idea of being required to put on the charm in the face of women – young women – held little appeal.

 

If only he could admit it, what he really wanted was to spend some of his weekend with Gibbs. Idiot, he thought. As if Gibbs wants to spend his precious free time with _you_.

 

"The local girls don't care about the weather, Tony. They're hardy. Besides, the weather's going to warm up and my sailboat's calling my name. I've got her in the water and ready to go." Tony hedged a bit until Doug asked, "You okay? You sound like you have a cold."

 

For a moment Tony considered lying to Doug but he figured his friend would have visual evidence of his injuries once they were face to face, so he briefly explained he'd been punched a couple of times, all in the line of duty, and that the mere sight of his damaged face would probably send any babes running for the hills.

 

Doug expressed sincere concern and assured Tony they could just relax and sail, and besides, his poker buddies wouldn’t give a shit what Tony looked like. So in the end Tony agreed and said he'd drive to Doug's place on the shore on Friday after work. He'd confirm once he was sure they didn't have a case. He hung up the phone feeling like he'd made the right decision; a change of scenery would do him good.

 

Ducky phoned two minutes later and asked about the state of his injuries. Tony convinced the ME it wasn't necessary for him to bother to make a house call. "Yes, Ducky, I swear I will take my antibiotics and have a hot shower before bed. Yes, I'll call if I get dizzy or have pain in my head. I know the drill, Doc. Done it before and no doubt I'll be doing it again. It's worth it if it means that the Siazons are off the streets."

 

"It would be far better if you did not suffer injuries on the case, but as we both know, it is part of the job." Ducky said tentatively, "Jethro was quite concerned about the undercover operation, and not only about the outcome of the case. He does tend to hold himself responsible for everyone's wellbeing and it has come to my attention that he spent all night in MTAC watching over you. Even after you and Ziva were both found, he was very hard on himself. Jethro may very well believe that he let you down, Anthony."

 

Gibbs never let him down, thought Tony. "Look, Ducky, I know he feels responsible for all of his agents, but it all worked out in the end. We confirmed that none of the dignitaries at the ball were in any danger, and that's what counts, right?"

 

"Perhaps, but remember that he didn't need to relieve McGee and take his place last night. It is his way of making amends." Ducky said good night and they disconnected.

 

Tony didn't know what to make of this information; he was convinced that it was simply Gibbs being Gibbs, always vigilant and protective of him. Protective of all of his agents, Tony amended. Later on, as he fell asleep on his big leather couch, Tony belatedly realized that he never received the one phone call that he'd wanted the most.

 

***–***

TBC

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 - Touching**

 

_It's often just enough to be with someone. I don't need to touch them. Not even talk. A feeling passes between you both. You're not alone._

_~ Marilyn Monroe_

 

The light touch of a hand on his shoulder woke Tony with a start. It was Gibbs. Tony blinked a few times, wondering what was going on, why Gibbs was in his apartment, and then he shifted and the aching in his ribs flared. "You came back," he said groggily. The TV was on, sound low, nearing the end of a 1940s black-and-white comedy that cast flickering shades of gray across his darkened living room.

 

"You're supposed to rest your eyes with a concussion, Tony." Gibbs tossed his suit jacket over the back of the couch and stood behind the couch looking damned handsome in a dark polo shirt that accentuated the silver of his hair.

 

Tony realized what he'd just thought and busied himself by locating the remote and turning off the TV. "I wasn't really watching," he said somewhat truthfully; he hadn't been able to appreciate the zany action in the classic film and had had his eyes closed most of the time. He'd been thinking of Gibbs mostly. "You didn't call," he said irritably.

 

Gibbs snorted. "Palmer called me with a report. And then Ducky did the same, only he used longer words. You needed something?"

 

How could Tony explain to Gibbs that he'd needed to hear from him? Tony yawned widely, and then regretted it when his jaw popped. He rested his head on the back of the couch and looked up at Gibbs hovering over him. "Do I smell pizza?"

 

There was Gibbs, frowning and holding a pizza box just out of reach. "You okay to eat it?"

 

"What's on it? Pepperoni? Sausage and extra cheese?" How was it that all it took was for Gibbs to appear with pizza and a glare, and Tony felt an outpouring of love for the man? A second after Tony realized what he'd just thought he felt heat rush up his neck to his cheeks.

 

Memories flooded back, of a stakeout in the freezing rain, slipping into Gibbs' warm car, biting into a slice of warm pizza, being in heaven and declaring, "Love you, Boss," and Gibbs smiling archly in response.

 

Gibbs placed the pizza box on the table within Tony's reach. "Extra cheese only, because of your mouth. Ducky said to avoid spicy food." He scrutinized Tony and placed a hand on his forehead. "Hmm. You feelin' okay?"

 

"Yeah." Tony shrugged, denying there was anything wrong with him. Gibbs looked him in the eye as if trying to see the truth. Just as Tony gave it all up and let his inner feelings loose, Gibbs removed his hand and turned away. Tony felt such loss he almost reached out to grab Gibbs' arm, to bring him back. Instead, he sat up, squeezing his hands into fists, and got himself under control.

 

He was going crazy; that was the only possible explanation. A hetero man did not fall in love with his boss just because the silver-haired, virile man with stunning blue eyes had stayed overnight to ensure his injured employee was okay. And came back. With pizza. And checked his temperature with his rough, warm palm. Tony watched Gibbs walk into the kitchen and open the fridge, admiring the man's physique from under his eyelashes. Damn, he looked good, both coming and going.

 

That's when Tony accepted that he couldn’t help himself. Quite simply, he desired Gibbs. Shit, there really was nothing simple about it. Tony ran a hand through his hair and wondered what the hell he was going to do now. No way could this go anywhere, and no way could he even let Gibbs know that he felt this irresistible pull towards him. It was all wrong. Impossible. And it would never be reciprocated, not on a sexual level, even if Gibbs might care about him a little. He was just setting himself up for a fall, he knew, but either way – following through or putting it aside – heartache was inevitable.

 

Gibbs returned and handed Tony a glass of milk. "If you can't manage to chew the pizza I'll make you soup or something." He removed his shoes and firearm before sitting near Tony.

 

Tony frowned at the glass of milk in his hand. "What is this?"

 

"Milk, DiNozzo."

 

"Well, where'd it come from?"

 

"I bought groceries on my way here."

 

He must have put them away before waking him, Tony realized.

 

He stared at the glass of milk long enough for Gibbs to ask sharply, "Got a problem?"

 

"I don't drink milk." Tony did drink milk, especially of the chocolate variety, but he had a reputation to uphold.

 

"Well you do now," Gibbs said, ending the discussion. Tony opened his mouth to protest again but Gibbs cut him off by saying abruptly, "I bought ice cream for later."

 

After a long pause Tony asked, "What flavor?" Gibbs stared at him until Tony got the message. "Oh. Coffee ice cream?" Gibbs didn't bother to reply. The ice cream was obviously a bribe so Tony gave in and drank some milk, though he made sure he pulled a face, and that Gibbs had a clear view of it.

 

Even though the couch was large, Gibbs was sitting so close that all it would take for their shoulders to touch would be for Tony to lean a little to one side. Although he was tempted to do so, Tony didn't encroach on Gibbs' personal space. He knew where the boundary lay even if the line had shifted quite a bit the previous night. For years, in fact during the entire time he'd worked with Gibbs, Tony had kept his feet firmly on his side of the fence. It had never crossed his mind to do otherwise. As far as his co-workers went, he had always managed to put a stop to any wayward thoughts long before they took hold. Tony had never made honey where he made money, unlike his father, who had made a lifelong habit of it.

 

Only problem was that those thoughts were getting harder and harder to keep from wandering over in Gibbs' direction, over his side of the line. Tony watched with envy as Gibbs lifted a bottle of beer to his mouth. Man, that bottle was lucky, having Gibbs' lips wrapped around it…

 

"Forget it, Tony," Gibbs said.

 

"What?" Alarmed, Tony sat up straight. Had Gibbs read his thoughts?

 

"No beer for you. Eat something." Gibbs carefully placed his beer on the table out of Tony's reach and started in on the pizza. Hungry, Tony grabbed a napkin and a slice, careful of his sore mouth and chewing on his right side only.

 

After Gibbs finished a couple of slices he wiped his fingers on a bunch of paper napkins, tossed them on the coffee table and slid down until his head rested comfortably on the back of the couch. He closed his eyes and groaned, "Hmm, I could stay here forever."

 

Tony froze in mid-bite to sneak a peek at his boss. Gibbs looked mighty fine stretched out like a contented cat, fingers laced over his stomach. His short-sleeved shirt clung to him in all the right places, making Tony salivate. He really wanted to reach under that shirt and run his hand across Gibbs' stomach and then follow the swath of body hair that he knew disappeared under the waistband of his pants. Instead Tony chewed on his pizza and somehow managed to swallow without choking. "Hard day?" he asked casually.

 

"Mmm. Hard when I'm missing one of my best agents."

 

Tony smiled and wished Gibbs **did** get hard thinking of him, but that was unlikely. Still, it wasn't often that Gibbs admitted he missed his senior field agent so Tony grinned broadly and asked, "You really miss me when I'm not on your six, don't you, Boss?"

 

The corner of Gibbs' mouth quirked up but he didn't open his eyes. "You itching for a head slap or a medal?"

 

"No, neither. Just want to make sure there's nobody new sitting at my desk, Boss."

 

Gibbs opened his eyes but he didn't shift from his relaxed position. "Not gonna happen on my watch."

 

That pleased Tony but he said with a meaningful look, "Don't want anyone to get the wrong idea and think I'm not coming back tomorrow."

 

"You're taking tomorrow off."

 

"I don't need a day off," Tony said automatically.

 

Gibbs squinted at him but shook his head. "You take it easy tomorrow and then we'll talk. You look better than you did last night, but you're still look like shit."

 

Tony gave a curt laugh. He'd seen himself in the mirror and his bruises were turning a ghoulish purple. Better was not a description he considered accurate; colorful was more like it. "Hey, this is all window dressing," he said indicating his face. "I'll be back in shape by tomorrow." He waited for Gibbs to give him permission to return to work the next day, but it didn't come. Trying another tactic, Tony wheedled, "C'mon, Boss, I really am good to go. Uh…how about desk duty?"

 

Gibbs angled his head and sent Tony a stern look. "You've got days coming, Tony, so take them, and the weekend as well."

 

"Well, I've got something lined up for the weekend, but it's two whole days until then. I can't laze around here doin' nothing but eating and napping. Please, I can work," Tony pled. He snagged another slice of pizza and took a cautious bite, trying hard to make it appear that there was no discomfort involved.

 

"You'd better not be planning any horizontal kind of fun over the weekend, DiNozzo. You need to rest up," Gibbs growled. "Can't have you coming back in piss-poor shape."

 

So Gibbs had reverted to calling him by his surname, had he? It seemed to Tony that when he was at his most pitiful, like last night, Gibbs called him Tony. If a reprimand was in order, or Tony required guidance or a put-down when they were at work, then he was DiNozzo. That was a given.

 

Tony didn't know why Gibbs was being grouchy just because he was planning a weekend away. "I'm just getting together with an old friend. I've known Doug since Rhode Island. We were roomies for two years." He smiled at the memories and said, "You get to know someone really fast when you share homework, girlfriends and dirty socks, that's for sure. The weather's supposed to be good on Saturday. We're going to wine and dine and play some poker with his buddies. We might even get in some rays on the beach. After all my hard work undercover as Jean-Paul Ranier, and keeping the little assassin-wife happy in the sack, I am ready for some R&R," Tony said enthusiastically.

 

Gibbs snapped, "You call that recuperating? You wont be able to stay out of trouble." He finished off his beer in a couple of pulls, scowling like he was drinking something bitter.

 

Tony checked Gibbs out, wondering where this snarly attitude was coming from. These were not the boss's usual biting comments that contained at least a _hint_ that he cared, even if it was buried deep in there somewhere and you had to squint really hard to see it. No, this was different and it served to put Tony's back up. "Doug's a good guy, a good _friend_ ," he retorted defensively. "Someone I can talk to," he said, inferring that was more than Gibbs was offering.

 

Tony dropped his half-eaten slice back in the pizza box, no longer hungry. He rose, careful to get his feet solidly under him before he turned his back on Gibbs. "I'm going to take a shower and go to bed." Considering he'd been sleeping half the day away, he was surprisingly tired, and his face was starting to hurt badly enough that he planned on popping a couple of aspirin as soon as Gibbs was gone. "Make sure you lock the door on your way out," he said with a finality that left no room for misinterpretation.

 

Once in his bedroom, Tony removed his sweatpants and t-shirt, tossed them aside angrily and headed naked into the bathroom. He let the water run in the shower to warm it up and then realized he'd have to cover his bandaged wrists or they'd get wet. Alternatively he could cut off the gauze and re-wrap his wrists later. Scissors it was then. Removing the left-hand bandage was easy; a couple of snips and it was off. Tony hadn't had a good look at the wound previously but now he did he wished he hadn't seen it at all. There was a series of black stitches bristling along the wound on the posterior side of his wrist, now somewhat inflamed. Not very pretty but it wasn't the worst thing he'd ever seen either. He struggled to cut off the other bandage but using the scissors with his left hand was frustrating.

 

Gibbs suddenly appeared in the doorway. Startled, Tony took a hurried step back and almost lost his footing.

 

Gibbs reached out, grabbed Tony's elbow and steadied him. "Hey!"

 

Tony tried to drag his arm out of Gibbs' grasp, feeling cornered and in no mood to play nice. He winced at the pain in his wrist, which hurt like hell even though Gibbs' wasn't touching it. Gibbs didn't release him and after a moment Tony gave up the futile tug-of-war. "Let me go," he said tersely. He'd been in a pretty good mood, and then Gibbs _had_ to put a damper on the evening by acting like a stern dad who instinctively hates his teen-aged daughter's first date. Tony glared at the hand on his arm. "I don't need–"

 

Gibbs stepped right up to Tony and said in a low voice, "You don't know what you need, DiNozzo!"

 

Shit, here he was, standing stark naked, being treated like some wayward teenager by Gibbs just because he wanted to spend a couple of days having fun with an old friend. Still holding the scissors, Tony grabbed a towel and held it in front of his groin. Not that covering up made him feel any less threatened. "What the hell are you getting all fired up about? I don't need you, any of you, coming uninvited into my home and telling me what to do. Surprise, surprise, but little Anthony DiNozzo is all grown up and doesn't need Dad wiping his butt every time he craps all over himself!" He leaned forward, only inches from Gibbs' face, and said in a growl that rivaled Gibbs' best, "Let me go." He indicated the running water in the shower. "I'm sorta busy."

 

Gibbs sent Tony a stormy look but his gaze drifted down Tony's body and he blinked a few times and then his anger seemed to melt away. It fascinated Tony to see a variety of emotions playing over Gibbs' features, including realization and something that looked suspiciously like physical interest.

 

Gibbs said sincerely, "I just wanted to…I came back to help you, Tony."

 

"Okay, but can you let go of me? There's a little pain involved here, ya know?"

 

The older man immediately released Tony's arm. "God, I'm sorry, Tony. I didn't mean…" At the open-mouthed stare he received from Tony, Gibbs barked in exasperation, "Now what?"

 

Tony stuck a finger in his ear and wiggled it around as if he had wax in it. "Wow! That big goon musta hit me so hard he messed up my hearing. I coulda sworn I heard an apology."

 

Gibbs shifted his weight uncomfortably and said, with a begrudging smile, "Shut up. I can apologize for hurting you. Get over it." He held out a hand. "Give me the scissors before you poke your eye out. I'll cut the bandage off so you can shower."

 

That's when Tony remembered he was standing there almost naked except for a strategically placed towel that was barely covering his privates. For a moment he considered telling Gibbs to get the hell out of his bathroom, but even if the man was brusque and often brutally honest, Tony liked Gibbs' company. At that moment he needed a helping hand so he handed Gibbs the scissors and held out his right wrist. "All right but don't hurt me," he pled, only half kidding.

 

Gibbs took the proffered hand, steadying the arm while he carefully cut off the remaining bandage. "I'd never hurt you, not intentionally, Tony," he said softly. Once the bandage was cut away and discarded, Gibbs retained his hold on Tony's hand and stared at the bruised flesh all around the wrist. He then picked up Tony's left hand and inspected that wrist, too, his mouth tightening at the sight of the injury.

 

After a long few seconds, when Gibbs didn't relinquish his hold, Tony said, "It's okay, Boss. You can let go now." Gibbs bowed his head and in the bathroom's bright overhead light Tony noted that his hair glinted almost white. Gibbs still hadn't let go of him so Tony dipped his head a little to check out Gibbs' expression. The older man appeared pensive and Tony wondered what was bothering him because it couldn't just be because his senior field agent had sustained a little damage. This wasn't at all like Gibbs. Where was the usual 'Suck it up, DiNozzo'? 

 

Tony cleared his throat and asked, "Are you okay, Jethro?"

 

Gibbs released Tony's hands and stepped back. He blinked and looked like he'd just woken up. "I…You take your shower. Don’t slip," he said absently. He was outside the door when he stopped but didn't turn to look at Tony when he asked, "Where's your first aid kit?"

 

"In the kitchen, above the microwave." Gibbs withdrew from the bathroom, leaving Tony to wonder what the hell he was going to do with the man.

 

***–***

TBC

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 - Interlude**

 

_Night time, to some a brief interlude._

_To others the fear of solitude._

_~ from 'The Day Begins', The Moody Blues ­_

 

Tony emerged from his shower and pulled on a pair of gray sweatpants, careful of the exposed wounds on his wrists. He rubbed his damp hair with a towel as he wandered into the kitchen. "Good, you found my first aid box," said Tony.

 

Gibbs stood at the ready like a medic on the battlefield, with the medical supplies neatly laid out. He looked Tony up and down, making Tony feel self-conscious about the bruises on his bare chest. Without saying a word, Gibbs pointed to the chair opposite him.

 

Tony draped the towel around his neck and did as he was told – it wasn't like he was given any choice in the matter. He sat and extended his hands, palms up, on the tabletop so that Gibbs could bandage his injured wrists. He felt queasy when he had a good look at the sutured lacerations under the bright kitchen lights. The sharp-edged plastic bindings had really cut into the flesh. "They're a mess," Tony stated unnecessarily.

 

Gibbs made a noise that sounded an awful lot like a growl, but he kept his head down, concentrating on applying ointment to the raw-looking wounds on Tony's wrists.

 

"You think I'll ever be able to play the piano again, Boss?" Tony asked, trying to make light of it.

 

Gibbs looked up from what he was doing and his eyes locked on Tony's. He was so grim, his eyes so flinty, that Tony was about to ask him if it hurt to smile, just to ease the tension. Gibbs spoke before Tony got the chance. "They'll heal up faster if you don't abuse them. Just try to keep out of trouble."

 

"Oh, I'll make sure not to press too hard on the remote control buttons then," Tony said sarcastically. At Gibbs' exasperated glance, Tony pointed out, "Look, I can't exactly get into any kind of trouble in my own apartment, can I?"

 

Gibbs' answer was to raise an eyebrow, to make a derisive sound and go back to what he was doing. He wrapped Tony's wounds deftly but with a gentle touch and secured the edges of the gauze with plenty of first aid tape. By the time Gibbs was finished, Tony's left wrist, which was in far worse shape than his right, was bandaged heavily as a precaution against any accidental knocks.

 

Gibbs held onto Tony's left hand and instructed, "Make sure it's not too tight. Squeeze my hand." Tony did so, and only felt a bit of a pull on the tender skin of his wrist. Gibbs nodded and said, "You'll need to get Ducky to check you out as soon as you get to work."

 

He was still holding Tony's hand, albeit loosely, yet Tony didn't pull away. He wasn't normally a hand-holding kind of guy, but it felt nice to have contact with Gibbs, even if it was under the guise of receiving first aid. "You mean I should see Ducky when I'm at work tomorrow?" Tony suggested, with his most charming smile.

 

Gibbs appeared to focus on the corner of Tony's mouth, where a large bruise had formed. "We'll see," he said with a frown.

 

"That means I'm cleared to go in tomorrow?" Gibbs seemed a thousand miles away, so Tony squeezed his hand, trying to get his attention. "Gibbs?"

 

"What?" Gibbs seemed startled.

 

"Is there something wrong with my face?" Tony pulled his hand out of Gibbs' grip to gently probe around his mouth and chin, where Cord's fist had slammed into his face. "What's the matter? Does it look really bad?" Tony didn't know why he was soliciting Gibbs' opinion. He'd already seen his own face in the mirror. The bruises on his face and torso looked bad enough right now, but they'd be worse the next day, darker and blue-black. A week from now they'd be a gross yellowy green, but with any luck they'd hardly be noticeable a few days later.

 

Gibbs stared at Tony for a moment and then said, "The doc said there wouldn’t be any permanent damage."

 

Thinking that damage, whether permanent or not, hurt just as badly, Tony ran his tongue inside his cheek. "Well, good. I have to make an appointment with my dentist. Got some loose teeth. That asshole knew exactly how to cause the most pain," he complained, sticking a finger inside his mouth to check his teeth. At least he hadn't had any sutures inside his mouth. He hated those.

 

"Stop fooling around with your mouth, Tony. Let me know when the appointment is, and I'll take you."

 

"I can drive myself–"

 

"Not with a concussion, you can't," Gibbs said sharply.

 

Tony opened his mouth to quarrel but thought better of it. Weariness swept over him and he just couldn’t face a pissed off Gibbs. Not tonight. He simply nodded and Gibbs' reaction – surprise that he gave in so easily – made Tony smile a little.

 

Gibbs, who never took his eyes off Tony, motioned towards the open first-aid box that took up half of the kitchen table's surface. "Some reason you need a first-aid kit that's double the size of my toolbox?"

 

Tony shrugged. He was used to taking care of his own injuries. Better than a trip to the hospital any day. "It comes in handy. I buy in bulk at Costco. You sure there's any gauze left? You wrapped me up pretty good, like Boris Karloff in 'The Mummy'." Unsure of what to make of Gibbs' continued scrutiny, he asked nervously, "Did you know that the actress in the movie, Zita Johann, prayed before she filmed every scene?"

 

"I'd pray too if I had to face Boris Karloff in a tomb," Gibbs said with a straight face. "I remember seeing that movie on the Midnight Horror Show on TV when I was a kid. Scared the crap outta me."

 

Tony loved the idea of little Leroy Gibbs, decked out in his Superman pajamas – with feet – staying up late to watch a horror film and getting scared out of his wits. He started to respond by quoting a line from the film about the sacrifice of vestal virgins, but stopped when he saw the intensity of Gibbs' eyes as he studied him. Tony stared right back, his defenses up, not at all sure that he liked being scrutinized in such an up close and personal way. His face grew hot and he was about to protest, or to get up and walk away, because he really couldn’t deal with this right now, but something he saw in Gibbs' expression kept him in his seat.

 

Tony couldn’t always read Gibbs, who was pretty damned good at hiding his thoughts, but there was realization in Gibbs' eyes, like he had woken up from a deep sleep, and here was Tony with a front row seat to the event. Tony was unnerved by seeing his own thoughts, his own feelings, including those forbidden ones, reflected in Gibbs' clear blue eyes. It was like they were looking at each other for the first time, letting each other in, sharing something so deep that Tony didn't even have a name for it.

 

Gibbs took his hand again, his callused fingers strangely comforting, homey in their own way, warm and strong, and Tony felt himself giving in. The world around him vanished until there was nothing left but Gibbs – his eyes, his mouth, lips parting a little – and Tony had to try to remember how to breathe. His dick was showing a sudden interest in the man sitting across the table, and it was pushing insistently against the soft fabric of his sweatpants; Tony's nipples, hidden under the towel dangling from his neck, had tightened into hard nubs. There was a rushing in Tony's ears and his head was swimming, and he tried not to panic because he was falling…falling for Gibbs and he couldn't, he _couldn't_.

 

The pressure on Tony's hand increased, bringing him back to find Gibbs leaning forward, his brow wrinkled in worry. "Tony? Tony! Hey, you okay there?"

 

Tony blinked and everything slowly came back into focus. It took him a moment to find his voice. "Yeah, I…I need a drink." He started to rise but Gibbs laid a hand on his shoulder and went to get it for him. Tony gulped down a glass of water, wishing that Gibbs would stop looking at him as if he was going to fall over or faint or something. When he was finished, Tony put the empty glass on the table with a sigh.

 

"Better?" asked Gibbs, still looking at him worriedly.

 

"I'm okay. Just give me a minute." His head was hurting again and when he went to touch it, his fingers brushed against a tender spot near his eye. Tony closed his eyes, not so much from the sudden pain, but to distance himself from whatever the hell was going on between him and Gibbs. He had to be hallucinating, seeing things that weren't really there. Gibbs was only concerned because his agent's well being was his responsibility and, let's face it, the undercover operation at the hotel had not gone exactly to plan. Losing contact with your agents was never a good thing and they all knew how lucky they'd been that neither he nor Ziva had been killed. Tony didn't want to think about their close brush with death right now; he couldn’t handle it any more than he could deal with the weird attentiveness that Gibbs had been showing him. One good thing, his hardon had eased off and at least he didn't have to worry about hiding it now.

 

Gibbs said decisively, "I'm calling Ducky."

 

His eyes flying open, Tony quickly said, "No, I'm fine. You'd think I'd know enough not to poke myself in the eye. I'm tired, is all. Nothing a little shut-eye won't cure." Tony tried to laugh it off, but Gibbs was still looking at him in a funny way.

 

"I'll help you get to bed," Gibbs offered with what could only be called a kind smile.

 

It struck Tony that there must be a good reason that Gibbs had been extra agreeable to him since he'd been hurt. Like maybe Gibbs had to break some bad news to him. Maybe when he'd been x-rayed and scanned in the hospital, they'd found something in his head, a tumor or cancer or something. Tony had been out of it most of the time, so he had no clue what the doctor had said to Gibbs. His uncle Leo had died of brain cancer and it terrified Tony that he might be following his uncle's footsteps, right to the grave. Trying to keep his voice steady, Tony asked, "Is there something you want to tell me, Boss? 'Cause you're starting to worry me a little here. They didn't find anything scary like alien tracking chips when they did my CAT scan, did they?"

 

Gibbs was quick to assure him, "No, of course not. You have a mild concussion. That's all. It's just that…"

 

Relieved, Tony let out a breath and asked, "Then what's the matter? You keep looking at me funny and it's freaking me out a bit."

 

Gibbs shook his head sharply and hesitated in a very un-Gibbs-like manner. He licked his lips and said, "I messed up, Tony. Got complacent."

 

"This is about the undercover op?"

 

"I never should have let you out of my sight…the both of you. I knew the elevators were a blind spot but I didn't take the time to get surveillance cameras installed."

 

Actually, Tony had wondered why the Barclay Hotel didn't have their own security cameras in their elevators and hallways, something he was going to bring up with their management. "C'mon, Boss, you couldn't be expected to predict what was going to go down. I mean, Ziva and I stepped right into their trap like probies. Siazon's man was already in the elevator. Stupid of me," he admitted. Stupid of Ziva, too, even if Tony didn't say so.

 

Barely keeping his anger under control, Gibbs said, "But _I_ knew better! I damn well knew better and I…" He bit his lip, holding his words in with difficulty.

 

Tony knew that there was no placating Gibbs when he got like this, in what Tony privately thought of as Marine Mode. When he was so impassioned, Gibbs' anger could be frightening, but it was also fascinating.

 

Gibbs rose suddenly, the kitchen chair scraping harshly on the tile floor. He slammed his palms down on the table, rattling the first-aid box and the medical supplies that were strewn across its surface. "You could have been killed, Tony! It was too damned close!"

 

And Tony had thought _he_ had been angry about getting beaten up by Siazon's right-hand man…it looked like he didn't have anything on Gibbs. Tony arranged his hands on his lap, taking care not to put pressure on his wrists, and he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He looked Gibbs in the eye and said calmly, "If we start second-guessing ourselves, Boss, we'll be lobbing recriminations back and forth like we're at Wimbledon. You tell us to walk away from the job when it's done and I think you need to listen to your own advice."

 

Gibbs stood there stiffly for several seconds, and then his shoulders slumped slightly as the tension drained away. He wiped his face with his hands. "I need…I need coffee." He turned and looked around the compact kitchen.

 

"It's right there." Tony pointed at the coffeemaker that was sitting in plain sight. Looked like the pot was empty though. His slight panic over being the subject of Gibbs' scrutiny, and discovering that Gibbs might have some kind of feelings for him – if he'd read him right – were pushed to the back of his mind for the moment. One thing Tony was good at was avoiding difficult thoughts by compartmentalizing, and apparently whatever that moment had been about, it was gone for the time being. Fine by him. He'd revisit it when he was alone.

 

Tony carefully rose to his feet and moved past Gibbs to get the coffee and a filter. His head wasn't so bad that he couldn’t put the coffee on, but as soon as he started it, he was going to lie down. "Didn't you make yourself a pot this morning?"

 

"Palmer made it," Gibbs said sheepishly. He sent a dark look towards Tony's coffeemaker and said, "I'll bet this thing comes with a hundred-page manual that only an MIT grad can follow."

 

"This machine is a Pettrucio Café Retro," Tony said in its defense. The machine did, indeed, have a futuristic appearance, and the buttons' functions were hard to figure out no matter what language you spoke. "Well, yeah, it has a manual, but it's in Italian." Tony ignored the way Gibbs rolled his eyes, and patiently showed him how to make coffee. "It's okay, Boss. Let me show you. First, take this filter…"

 

***–***

 

Gibbs made sure that Tony took some pain meds, which helped a bit. Tony insisted on watching a movie, despite his headache, but he fell asleep on the couch within five minutes of the opening credits.

 

The next morning Tony had a vague recollection of Gibbs getting him to the bathroom and then to bed. He was pretty sure that he'd given Gibbs a hard time, saying he didn't need a baby sitter. Gibbs had pretty much ignored Tony's protests and had helped him put on a tshirt for sleeping, plumped up his pillows, and had settled him in bed.

 

Tony knew that Gibbs had stayed the night because he remembered that just as he was falling asleep Gibbs ran his fingers through his hair in gentle strokes and told him that he'd watch over him.

 

***–***

 

The next day Tony was feeling a lot better, and Tony told Gibbs, once again, that he was fine to go in to work.

 

Gibbs asked him a dozen questions about his pain level, if he was dizzy, did he have a headache, yada yada, and then he squinted at Tony to determine if he was telling the truth. After some back and forth, Gibbs rescinded his orders that Tony had to stay at home for another day.

 

Tony thought that Gibbs' change of heart just might have had something to do with the gift he gave him after breakfast – a big package of extremely expensive coffee beans. "I know that coffee isn't much of a thank-you, Boss, considering how you've gone out of your way to take care of me." Tony smiled at the way Gibbs frowned and shifted his weight, enjoying that he could make the older man feel awkward with a few words of gratitude. He'd have to try it more often, he thought.

 

If anyone suggested that the ex-Marine was susceptible to bribes, Tony would be the first person to swear that it wasn't possible. However, Gibbs had fallen in love with Tony's favorite brand of coffee. "It's called El Salvador La Montana Pacamara. Comes mail order from South Dakota, of all places. Next time I order I'll get extra for you."

 

"All right, you can go to work, but there are conditions," Gibbs warned in a stern manner which involved a searing look from his blue eyes as he encroached upon Tony's space, which didn't scare Tony at all. Or not much, anyway.

 

Tony agreed eagerly, even before hearing what the conditions might be. Gibbs made him promise to take his medications, both the pain and antibiotic pills, and to check in with Ducky when he got to work, and to do every damned thing his boss told him to do, "Without whining or digging in your heels like a stubborn-ass mule. And you ride into work with me today."

 

"Boss…"

 

Gibbs turned on him and barked, "Hey, what did I just finish saying? You gonna buck me this early in the day, DiNozzo? You are not driving. I've only had two cups of your Salvador Montana coffee so far and I'm not in the mood to take you down, but I will do so if I have to. Are you getting this, or do you need a hundred-page manual in Italian?"

 

Tony dropped his gaze after a couple of seconds and he nodded his head obediently. Now he understood why Gibbs had made such a good gunny, and he almost felt sorry for the Marines who'd faced Gibbs every morning on the parade ground before the man had consumed his prerequisite cups of coffee. He might enjoy pushing Gibbs whenever he got the chance, but he wasn't stupid. "I'll do what you say, Boss. Uh, can I say something though?" Gibbs gave a brief nod so Tony said cautiously, "It's called El Salvador La Montana Pacamara coffee." Gibbs was glaring at him so Tony amended, "But you can call it Salvador Montana if you want to."

 

"You'd better get dressed if you're coming into work with me. I ain't waiting."

 

It took Tony twice as long as usual to dress because it still hurt like hell to do simple things like bending over to put on his shoes, with all the bruising to his stomach, but when he rushed out, panting a little, Gibbs was waiting patiently for him. If Tony noticed that Gibbs walked to his car at a slightly slower pace than normal, he didn't let on that he knew what Gibbs was doing.

 

***–***

 

Tony started out the day all bushy-tailed and bright-eyed, simply glad to be back, but by mid-afternoon he was ready to duck under his desk for a little clandestine shut-eye. Not that he would ever admit as much to his boss. Instead he lay back in his chair and pretended to be thinking deeply for a while. With no new cases on the table, that morning Tony had participated in a debriefing of the undercover mission with the other agents, and he had typed up a long and detailed report and then filed it. He also went downstairs to visit Ducky, who tutted over his bruises and raised an eyebrow at the fresh bandages on Tony's wrists, but the ME expressed his pleasure that Tony was recovering well.

 

After lunch, Tony had to waste almost an hour charming the NCIS-appointed headshrinker into believing that everything was just fine and dandy with Special Agent Tony DiNozzo. It took a lot more effort than usual and made Tony wonder if he was losing his touch.

 

Ziva kept eyeing Tony surreptitiously, and he also caught Gibbs inspecting him several times, so Tony suspected his lack of energy and cautious movements were painfully apparent. He was relieved when they were all told to go home soon after five, even though he suspected Gibbs gave the order just to make sure that his injured agent left at a reasonable hour.

 

As the agents gathered their things to leave, Gibbs said, "DiNozzo, I have to see the director. Be about ten minutes. You okay to wait?"

 

Tony couldn't help but appreciate Gibbs' consideration for him, but he was anxious to leave, and Director Shepard was likely to keep Gibbs in her office for a lot longer than ten minutes, if he knew her at all. "If it's all the same with you, I'll get a ride with Ziva, the woman who can kill you just as easily with her driving as with a knife." He looked to Ziva for confirmation and got a nod.

 

"Do you know," Ziva said with a smirk, "that I can qualify for the carpool lane even if one of the two people in my car is stuffed in the trunk?"

 

McGee shook his head and muttered, "Glad I'm not you, Tony, but then that's nothing new."

 

Tony managed to look affronted. "See, with friends like these to take care of me and put me to bed…"

 

Gibbs sounded annoyed when he snapped out orders. "Take your meds and go to bed, DiNozzo – alone. Call me if you need anything. Ziva, make sure he eats something first."

 

Tony said to Gibbs, "I think I can handle getting into bed on my own, unless the little woman wants to tuck me in. We never got to finish our big finish, did we?" He wiggled his eyebrows at Ziva and flinched at the resulting pain it brought to his bruised eye. "Ow!"

 

Gibbs glared at the pair of them.

 

Ziva held both of her hands aloft. "I did not even touch him, Gibbs!" She turned back to Tony and hissed, "And stop calling me 'the little woman' or I will poke your good eye out."

 

Gibbs narrowed his eyes and looked as if he was going to say something, but instead he went back to his paperwork, leaving Tony to wonder if it was possible that he'd hurt Gibbs' feelings by refusing a ride with him. No, that was a ridiculous idea. As if Gibbs cared who he went home with. However, Tony believed that one should never bite the hand that feeds you. He sighed and told his co-workers he'd join them at the elevator shortly then stood in front of Gibbs' desk. Although his boss studiously ignored him, Tony waited for a good thirty seconds before he cleared his throat and said genuinely, "Thanks, Gibbs. For…um…you know."

 

Another long pause was endured before Gibbs nodded. Without looking up, he said, "I mean it, Tony. You call me."

 

Tony had it on the tip of his tongue to call Gibbs by his first name, but this wasn't the time or place. "Okay, Gibbs. 'Night."

 

"'Night, Tony." That time Gibbs looked up and Tony could feel his eyes burning into his back all the way across the room.

 

***–***

 

Once he was home Tony used all of his persuasive powers to get Ziva to leave as soon as she had dutifully watched him eat a bowl of chunky chicken soup and take his pills. He locked the door behind her and barely managed to get undressed before falling into bed. He ached all over, his ribs hurt every time he turned over, and worst of all, Tony found that he missed having Gibbs in his bed. He fell asleep before he was able to figure out exactly what that meant in the larger scheme of things.

 

***–***

 

The next morning, Friday, Tony was able to get an emergency appointment with a dentist to check out his loose teeth. Gibbs drove him and sat in the corner with a two-year old copy of Fishing Life as if he had nothing better to do with his time.

 

Another patient waiting for the dentist stared long enough at Tony's bruised face to be annoying. Tony ignored Gibbs' look of warning and turned to the man. "Hey," he said, getting his attention. Tony made a big show of looking around as if making sure that nobody would overhear him, and said, "First rule is: we don't talk about Fight Club."

 

The guy must have taken him seriously because he moved as far away from Tony as he could.

 

Tony was still chuckling when he was called in to see the dentist. He was told to eat soft foods and to return in two weeks, or earlier if there was any pain. Tony cursed Cord for his ham-sized fists and seriously considered sending him the dentist's over-inflated bill.

 

Gibbs drove Tony back to NCIS and told him that, according to Fornell, Cord was still in the hospital and would be for some time. "Broken cheekbone, nose, ribs, arm, concussion. Fornell has already told IA that it was justified."

 

Tony gave a grunt of satisfaction, which made Gibbs smile.

 

 

****–***

 

Soon after they got to work, Tony went down to Abby's lab and she hugged him tightly enough to expel all of his breath. She only let him go when he wheezed a bit and began to look desperate.

 

"Tony! You're looking pretty good for a guy who's still really banged up. Not that a few bruises take away from your looks at all. The way you chose to wear that grayish mauve shirt color-coordinates with the bruise on your cheek," she said with a fond smile. "Or maybe the color is lavender, or lilac, or…Oh, I know! Iris! I was going to say puce, but nobody alive in this century even knows what color puce is, except maybe Ducky, and we know he'd tell us if he–"

 

Ducky walked into the forensic lab at that moment and was happy to help out. "Puce? _Couleur puce_ is French, derived from the Latin _puce_ , meaning flea." The ME frowned as he thought more deeply about it. "I do believe that the word is a concession to the dark-purplish brown color that a flea bite might leave on living human flesh. Now that brings to mind the transmission of bubonic plague by infected flea bites…"

 

Tony left the lab immediately, feeling sick to his stomach.

 

***–***

 

By late Friday afternoon Tony had his fingers crossed, hoping they didn't catch a case before they were able to leave, but just as it turned five o'clock he got a phone call. Tony answered, sensing Ziva's attention fixed on him even though she and McGee were both studying their computer screens with false attentiveness. They were also hoping to leave early for the weekend. Gibbs was working at his desk but, unlike the rest of the team, he was apparently paying no attention to his agents or the incoming call.

 

As soon as he heard the voice on the other end of the line, Tony swiveled his chair around and huddled over the phone for privacy. He could feel McGee and Ziva relax as soon as they deduced it wasn't a call from dispatch. "Oh…No, that's all right. Sure, we'll do it another time. Yeah, I could… Are you sure? That'd be great." He talked a few more minutes to the caller and when he hung up the phone and turned back to face his co-workers, they looked at him with practiced casual interest. He was not about to tell them that Doug had canceled their weekend due to a family emergency.

 

"So, Tony," Ziva said. "Your hot date has decided she doesn't want to be seen with a man whose face resembles a blueberry muffler?"

 

"Muffin. Blueberry muffin," corrected McGee with a barely disguised grin.

 

Tony sat straight and went back to work, which was just deleting emails and checking that he hadn't missed any inter-office memos. Without glancing Tim's way he said, "My dates are hot enough to fog up my eyeglasses, McMuffin."

 

McGee frowned. "You don't wear glasses, Tony."

 

"Neither did Tony Curtis in 'Some Like it Hot' but he got Sugar Kane Kowalcyk, aka Marilyn Monroe, anyway." He sighed and quoted, "'Shell Oil, Junior. He's got millions, he's got glasses, he's got a yacht!'"

 

"Stop tormenting McGee, Junior, and everyone go home," Gibbs ordered without looking up from the paperwork he was reviewing. The agents didn't need any more incentive and within a minute both Ziva and McGee were heading for the elevator. Tony was slower to get his gear together, and now that Doug had called to cancel, he had nothing to rush off for, anyway.

 

Gibbs looked at Tony impassively. "Your weekend get busted, DiNozzo?"

 

Tony considered making light of it but in the end he couldn't hide his disappointment from Gibbs. He stood in front of his boss's desk and said, "Doug had to cancel. I was really looking forward to it. A little beach, a little babe action, even if it is out of season." The weather was supposed to be unseasonably warm and he'd been looking forward to some downtime and getting sand between his toes. Gibbs looked intently at Tony but said nothing so after an awkward silence, Tony added, "I guess I'll go down there anyway. Cruise on my own. Single guys get more action than if they're hanging out with buddies, right?"

 

Gibbs' eyes grew dark, or so it seemed to Tony, but after a moment the ex-Marine scribbled his signature on one last piece of paperwork and placed it neatly with other signed papers in a folder. "Night, DiNozzo."

 

Tony said good night and headed dispiritedly towards the elevator. He knew it was only because he was tired; he hadn't yet recovered fully from the concussion, and he had a long drive in front of him. A quiet weekend would fix him right up though. As soon as the elevator arrived he stepped into the empty car, glad he wasn't riding down with anyone. He wasn't in the mood for small talk. The doors had almost closed when Gibbs abruptly stepped in.

 

Tony looked at him curiously. "Leaving so early, Boss?"

 

Gibbs watched the floor numbers light up on the overhead panel as they descended. "Yup."

 

On the spur of the moment Tony opened his big mouth and asked, "You interested in coming with me, Jethro?" The minute the casual invitation left his lips, Tony expected a headslap at best. He almost whacked himself for being so impetuous, as well as being totally out of line using Gibbs' first name. What the hell was he thinking?

 

One of several possible explanations was that he was still suffering from a concussion and was totally out of his mind, but what he was thinking - the truth of the matter - was that after having Gibbs spending time with him in his apartment during his recovery, Tony was lonely without him. Tony liked his company outside work, but he wasn't at all sure that Gibbs liked him enough to spend a couple of days relaxing together when, for a change, it didn't involve wiping his injured agent's sweaty brow or changing his bandages for him. He knew he was taking a big chance that could easily backfire.

 

The headslap never came, and Gibbs turned his head and delivered a stare that Tony found indecipherable. He couldn’t make out if the older man was affronted, pissed, or plain old amused. That in itself was odd because Tony was pretty good at figuring out what Gibbs was really thinking. Not always, but enough that he felt he knew Gibbs better than most people did.

 

But then Tony forged ahead because his desire to have Gibbs accompany him to the beach cottage was genuine and he figured the damage was already done. The cat was halfway out of the damned bag and there was no getting it back in. Something had changed over the past few of days, between the undercover op and its aftermath, and Tony was now looking at Gibbs in quite a different light. At that moment he wanted, more than anything else, to spend the weekend with Gibbs.

 

Tony cleared his throat and said, "It's right on the beach, has a fireplace, a little deck with a cookout pit. There won't be anyone there this time of year. The marina's just down the road, walking distance." He could have kept up his list of amenities and enticements for several more minutes, and probably would have, except that the elevator bell binged and the doors opened to deliver them to the parking garage level.

 

Gibbs shook his head a little and started to walk away, calling over his shoulder, "You have a good weekend, DiNozzo. Try to refrain from playing beach blanket bingo. You need to rest."

 

Tony stood watching Gibbs leave, heading for his car, and felt a sense of loss and loneliness. When Gibbs had almost reached his car, out of desperation Tony took a couple of steps in his direction and called out, "Hey Gibbs! It doesn't come with a yacht, but it does come with its own sailboat!"

 

Gibbs stopped in his tracks and slowly turned to look back. Tony took that as a good sign and after a momentary hesitation he ran towards his boss, his footsteps echoing in the half-empty parking garage. With every loping step that took him closer, the grin on Tony's face widened. Laughing, he slid to a stop a foot away from Gibbs, who put out a hand to prevent him from careening into him. That weird look Tony had seen more than once over the past couple of days was on Gibbs' face once again but this time it came with a smile reached his eyes.

 

***–***

TBC

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 - Playing Games**

 

_If you must play, decide upon three things at the start: the rules of the game, the stakes, and the quitting time._

_~ Chinese proverb_

 

They headed east, with Gibbs driving Tony's Mustang, their bags tossed in the back next to a big cooler that Tony had packed with food for the weekend. "Treat her gently, Boss," Tony said.

 

"You mean like a woman?"

 

"Sure. Handle her with care, and at the same time, keep your eye out for potential upgrades." He couldn’t help grinning widely, feeling free and happy for the first time in days.

 

Gibbs smirked at Tony but didn't reduce the pressure on the gas pedal. Traffic wasn't too bad and they were making good time the way he was driving.

 

After an hour, Tony was still smiling and was keeping up a running commentary about everything that entered his mind, which covered a lot of subjects. Gibbs kept his eyes on the road and grunted occasionally in response, until he finally reached for the dashboard and turned the radio on - loud.

 

Not only was the volume loud but it was a country-music station and the twangy banjo music was annoying enough to get on Tony's nerves. He didn't know how Gibbs could stand it. Tony noisily slurped the remains of a soda through a straw, which he'd bought during a brief pit stop they'd made when Gibbs had made it clear that he couldn’t last another minute without fresh coffee. "Thought you didn't like listening to music, Boss," said Tony, his voice raised to be heard over the radio.

 

Gibbs turned to glare at Tony. "I don't, DiNozzo."

 

***–***

 

They pulled up at Doug's cottage as the sun was sinking low in the sky, and even Gibbs had to admit the outlook was beautiful. "Nice," was all he said, but his appreciation was obvious.

 

The sound of the waves crashing on the beach, the smell of the salty sea air, and the sight of the long dune grasses bending gracefully in the evening breeze made Tony stand there with a big smile on his face. He inhaled deeply and said, "Ahhh."

 

The row of small houses on the sandy lane sat close to each other, some with mature pines between, adding privacy. Doug's place was a two-story cottage of weathered gray shingle with a bright red front door. Tony grabbed the bags and escorted his guest up the crushed seashell path. He retrieved the key from under the mat and they entered the cottage.

 

Tony hadn't been there for some time and was glad to see it hadn't changed at all. The downstairs was one big room with couch, no larger than a loveseat, and a couple of comfortable-looking chairs facing a big stone fireplace. There was a kitchenette with pine cabinets and an old fridge to one side. Straight ahead was a set of sliding doors leading out to a wooden deck featuring an outdoor stone barbeque pit.

 

"Hey, I see Doug added a TV," Tony exclaimed. It was a smaller screen than he was used to but it might be the only entertainment he and Gibbs would have in the evening, apart from the books and board games overloading the built-in bookcase. Somehow he doubted that Snakes & Ladders or Clue would be on the agenda during the long evenings.

 

They went back out to the car and Tony retrieved a bag of groceries he'd brought and Gibbs hauled in the cooler that Tony had packed full of food. "Always be prepared," Tony said with a grin. He knew just how heavy the cooler was and he secretly admired Gibbs' muscles straining against his polo shirt as he walked by with his burden.

 

"You mean your stomach's always prepared to take in more food," Gibbs said. "What's in this thing?"

 

"Sustenance, Gibbs," Tony retorted, taking no offense at the man's curt tone. "I'm a growing boy." He put the perishables and two bottles of wine, along with a couple of six-packs of beer, in the fridge, which was nearly empty. He'd brought coffee mocha ice cream, stuff for making sandwiches, and his favorite snacks. Holding up a corkscrew, Tony explained, "Got stuck in the boonies once with some fine wine and no corkscrew so now I always bring it along."

 

Gibbs looked at the neatly packed containers of food and the bottles of wine and asked, "What're you, Mary Stewart or something?"

 

"Uh, I think that's _Martha_ Stewart, Gibbs. So, I'm good at packing for road trips. The lasagna was in my freezer, and the rest is food you brought over a couple of nights ago. Believe me, you're gonna love my lasagna." He pointed towards a mudroom off the kitchen. "There's fishing and boating stuff in there. Guess that makes you Cap'n Whitehead. Yeah, even I've heard of _The Boathouse_ radio show."

 

Gibbs shook his head and went to investigate the storage space that held all the gear for outdoor activities, from beach chairs to fishing tackle, oars to foul-weather clothing. He poked around for a bit and made a noise that Tony interpreted as approval at what he saw.

 

"Doug said we can eat anything we find in the pantry. He'll restock next time he comes here. And the sailboat's docked at the little marina down the end of the lane," Tony said, pointing in the right direction when Gibbs emerged. "Doug said he'd let the manager of the marina know we'd be taking his boat out. I told him at least one of us knew his way around boats and I swear I could hear his big sigh of relief."

 

Gibbs joined Tony in the kitchen and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. "You tell this friend of yours you were bringing your boss for the weekend?"

 

There was something slightly defensive about the way Gibbs spoke so Tony raised his chin a little. "I told him I was bringing a friend." He met and held Gibbs' eyes. "You're my friend, Gibbs. Isn't that right?"

 

After a few long seconds, Gibbs nodded. "Yeah, Tony, that's right."

 

Tony could see the older man was pleased, presumably because Tony called him his friend, so he smiled and responded, "Just wanted to make sure we were on the same page." He reminded himself not to call Gibbs 'Boss' over the next couple of days. They were here as friends, not as boss and co-worker or fellow agents or whatever classification they fit into. Tony really wanted to believe they were friends, and even though Gibbs took the upper hand just as naturally as Tony slipped into a more submissive role. They were both independent men who liked each other's company, and when they were away from work, they were equals on a level playing field. "Let me show you upstairs where the bedrooms are. Then we can eat," said Tony. His energy level was waning, but he hadn't had a headache all day, so he counted himself lucky.

 

The two men climbed the narrow staircase and found themselves in a single large bedroom under the eaves that contained one king bed, and an attached bathroom. The walls and furniture were painted off-white, and the curtains and bedspread were blue with nautical-themed pillows and art to complete the seaside cottage look.

 

"Oh," was all Tony could say at first when he looked around. "Uh…there used to be two bedrooms up here, and no bathroom. Looks like Doug has made some…improvements." Shoot, there was no way Gibbs was going to want to bunk together in the only available bed; one of them was going to have to sleep downstairs on the couch. "Guess we should flip a coin to see who gets the couch, huh? Or maybe you'd rather share the bed?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

 

"That couch is barely five feet long, DiNozzo." Gibbs sent Tony a quizzical look before he turned around and went back downstairs.

 

"You mean…oh…okay," Tony said, deciphering Gibbs' comment as meaning they'd share the bed. Okay, he could do this. They'd just sleep, right? Next to each other, like in his apartment. No pressure to perform or anything, right? Tony followed Gibbs down to the kitchen, wondering what he had got himself into, knowing that the unsettled feeling in his stomach had nothing to do with hunger.

 

***–***

 

Tony heated up the lasagna he had brought and they ate it, steaming hot, out on the deck. He opted for red wine and he got Gibbs a cold beer.

 

Gibbs swallowed a mouthful of his dinner and said, sounding surprised, "This is good."

 

"Thanks."

 

After a moment Gibbs narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "You make this?"

 

"Hey, don't be so surprised, Gibbs. I have a couple of dinners I can make really well, and when I get the chance I cook up a few of them at one time, and stick them in the freezer. I do eat more than take-out you know."

 

"Huh," Gibbs replied and then went back to eating. After a while he asked, "What's the other one?"

 

"Chicken Piccata with vermouth. I don't like capers though. We should pick up some steaks and light up the grill tomorrow night." The sun was going down and the breeze off the water made it a bit too cool to comfortably sit out on the deck for long, but Tony went inside, grabbed a sweatshirt and slipped it on, then returned to relax in his chair. He loved being at the little cottage on the beach, and what he loved even more was that he could share it with his friend Gibbs, who Tony noticed was still in shirtsleeves, apparently oblivious to the dropping temperature.

 

Gibbs was quiet but seemed to be in a good mood. Not that most people would be able to determine that he was at ease, but Tony was experienced at reading him and could see the relaxed set of his shoulders and the way he held himself. After they'd finished the meal, Gibbs drank coffee, having discovered the coffee maker was an older model that was easy to operate, and Tony had another glass of wine.

 

The view from the deck was of grassy dunes, then an expanse of flat beach, the sand almost silver in the evening light. There was nobody swimming due to the late hour and the cold water, but some people were playing a game of touch football on the beach a few houses along. Tony enviously watched the players having fun and every time the voices raised or there was a shout of triumph he looked their way. They appeared to be in their early twenties, several young men and a few girls, all playing hard, shouting and yelling enthusiastically whenever they scored.

 

Gibbs relaxed in his deck chair, sipping hot coffee. "If you're gonna play with them, Tony, just take it easy," he said wearily, as if knowing his words of warning weren't likely to be heeded.

 

Tony dragged his eyes away from the game to look inquiringly at Gibbs. "What? Oh, I don't want…"

 

Gibbs made a huffing sound and said, "Go on, I can see you're dying to play with them."

 

"You sure?" He really wanted to play, to stretch his legs a bit, but he didn't want to leave Gibbs sitting there alone.

 

"If you think you're up to it."

 

"I'm feeling good," Tony said, and he _was_ feeling better than he had in days. His ribs were a bit achy but he'd played football with a lot worse.

 

"Go, go. Burnin' daylight, DiNozzo."

  
"Come with me," Tony said. Gibbs didn't move so Tony wheedled, "Bet you could teach them a thing or two about football."

 

Gibbs grinned but held up his cup of coffee. "Need another refill and then I'll come and watch you."

 

Tony toed off his shoes. "You mean you'll play," he said with a big smile. He ran across the grass and onto the beach, kicking up sand as he went, hearing Gibbs shouting his warning once again.

 

"Just take it easy, Tony! And be careful of those wrists!"

 

***–***

 

Tony was soon invited to play touch football with the people on the beach. The teams were made up of young men and women in their 20s. In between plays he learned which restaurants were open off-season, and where the best areas were to go sailing. In response to his teammates' curiosity about what he did for a living, Tony made vague remarks that implied he was a pencil pusher in DC.

 

During a short break one of the guys asked Tony about his bruised face, which he'd completely forgotten about until he was reminded of how he looked. Unwilling to explain to these kids about how he was injured in the line of duty by a brutal hired killer, when even _he_ had a hard time fathoming what drove some men to violence, Tony shrugged and kicked his toe in the soft sand. "Damned airbag," he said and went back to playing the game.

 

After some pretty rough play his wrists began to hurt but he figured they wouldn’t be playing much longer; a few minutes more wouldn’t make much of a difference and he'd had the foresight to pack some of his first-aid supplies in his overnight bag.

 

Gibbs had ambled down to the beach and was standing on the sidelines with a cup of coffee in hand. Tony was aware of a pair of attentive blue eyes watching his every move. Admittedly that encouraged him show off a little - snagging the ball, running hard, and making a dive for the goal to score one for his team. When it became apparent that the game was winding down, Tony dragged Gibbs in to play. "C'mon, show the kids what you've got," Tony taunted, taking the empty mug from Gibbs' hand and setting it on a log, out of the way. "Before it gets dark."

 

It didn't take much to convince Gibbs to take a position opposite Tony, and he played with is usual Marine drive and purpose. Tony wasn't at all surprised that Gibbs was competitive when playing ball, and he was proud of the way the older man showed the kids that ability had nothing to do with age.

 

Gibbs gained possession of the football and threw it deep to one of the large young receivers on his team. There was a fumble and, not about to miss an opportunity, Tony made an intercepting dive for the football at the same time as another player. Their two bodies collided in midair and they crashed to the sand in a heap of tangled arms and legs. Within seconds the local kid was being helped up by his friends, who were all laughing and joking about the spectacular collision.

 

Tony was not so lucky. Hit hard, he was unable to breathe and lay flat on his back in the cool sand, gasping for air.

 

He heard Gibbs pounding across the beach, shouting, "Out of my way," and then he was at his side, dropping to his knees. Tony wanted to assure Gibbs he was fine but it was if he was frozen in place. There was a weight on his chest that was beginning to scare him.

 

From a distance, Tony heard one of the youths ask if he should call 911, but Gibbs ordered, "Wait." He ran his hands expertly over Tony's head, seeking anything amiss - blood, new lumps, broken bones. "Tony! DiNozzo!" A hand shook his shoulder and Tony opened his eyes, which he'd close without meaning to, but he was still unable to catch his breath. He reached out and grasped Gibbs' arm in a bit of a panic. Gibbs responded calmly, "You'll be okay, Tony. Relax, you're just winded." He kept eye contact with him, and a hand on his shoulder until Tony breathed out heavily and groaned.

 

Finally able to catch his breath, Tony swallowed and said, "Shit," looking self-consciously at the people gathered around. "I'm fine," he assured them as he tried not to gasp like a fish out of water. After a few deep breaths, he managed to say, "The better the player, the harder he falls, right?"

 

"Yeah you can say that again," one of the kids exclaimed. Nervous laughter followed and they offered to help get Tony back to the cottage, but Tony waved them away. He sat up and then stood on his own although Gibbs had a firm grip on his elbow.

 

Gibbs ignored the crowd and stood facing Tony. He eyed the younger man's face worriedly. "Are you sure you're okay, Tony?"

 

Tony placed a hand to his stomach and coughed a couple of times. "Fine," he said with a grimace.

 

Gibbs lost his temper at Tony's habitual response, and bellowed, "Don't the fuck tell me that you're fine, DiNozzo!"

 

Tony looked at him warily out of the corner of his eye, unused to seeing Gibbs lose it like that. He said soothingly, "All right, Jethro. Jeez. I lost my breath there for a couple of minutes but I'm breathing fine now. Is that better?" He gave himself bonus points for not rolling his eyes because he could see that Gibbs was really pissed and he really didn't want to get slapped for being sarcastic. Now his head was aching from where it had hit the sand when he'd fallen. Tony resisted touching it in case he let on how much it hurt but he had a feeling that Gibbs wasn't at all deceived.

 

***–***

 

Gibbs refused any assistance getting Tony back to their cottage, though he said gruff thank-yous to those who had offered to help. By the time they'd made their way across the beach and up the sandy path to the dark cottage, Tony was leaning against Gibbs with one arm slung around his neck. He was secretly enjoying their proximity and the way Gibbs' body was so warm against his side, and how Gibbs held him close with an arm around his waist. Tony felt protected in a way he wasn't used to and he liked the feeling - a lot. He thought that wouldn't mind more of this physical closeness, as well as maybe getting to know Gibbs as more than a friend, but then he thought he must be lightheaded or something to be entertaining such thoughts. Why the hell he had invited Gibbs for the weekend was beyond him, knowing that if he made a move on his boss, it was going to cause more trouble than he could handle.

 

"You always causing trouble, no matter where you are, DiNozzo," Gibbs griped as soon as they entered the cottage.

 

Tony's immediate reaction was to slip his arm from around his boss's neck and to step away. So much for all those warm and fuzzy feelings. "Sorry," he said curtly and headed for where he thought he'd find the couch. Unfortunately they hadn't left any lights on and Tony stumbled over a chair before falling heavily into it, which made him laugh even though he wasn't feeling very lighthearted at that point. Too much was hurting - wrists, abdomen, and his pride - and he didn't have the mental energy to deal with Gibbs and whatever was stuck up his ass.

 

Gibbs flipped a light switch on before closing the sliding door. He stood there, frowning. Tony glanced at Gibbs from under his eyelashes, still annoyed with him, then got to his feet so he could pull his sweatshirt over his head. His t-shirt underneath rode up too, exposing his belly, and he quickly pulled it down, disconcerted that his cheeks grew hot under Gibbs' scrutiny. "I didn't _mean_ to get sacked," he said defensively.

 

Gibbs stood stiffly, looking mighty pissed. "It was supposed to be touch football, not a damned contact sport."

 

"Seems to me you were in the middle of things just as much as I was, and having a good time, too."

 

"Maybe, but I'm not the one who got beat up a couple of days ago and still have the bruises to prove it," Gibbs said, raising his voice in anger, moving closer to Tony. "I should have stopped you." As if to prove his point, with a couple of fingers, Gibbs lifted Tony's shirt so he could view his stomach, exposing the large round bruises left by Cord's fist. "Jesus, Tony," Gibbs said in a much softer tone of voice. "Just look at you."

 

Tony instinctively pulled away, but the stern look that Gibbs gave him - a look that clearly told him to stay put - stopped him in his tracks and he stood still while the older man inspected him. Gibbs' fingers ghosted across his stomach and suddenly Tony was having trouble breathing, though this time it had nothing to do with taking a hit to his midsection. Gibbs was so close, damn it, too close. His big, work-worn hand stroked along Tony's ribs and caused him to shiver.

 

"You cold?"

 

Tony couldn’t speak. He shook his head though. Gibbs was touching him, fingers gently skimming across Tony's bruises. When Tony flinched, Gibbs did so, too, as if he could feel Tony's pain himself; it was the darndest thing Tony had ever seen. Nobody had ever showed that they cared about him like that before and Tony didn't know what to do about it. Should he laugh it off, make out that he wasn't affected by Gibbs' concern, or lean into the man and just accept whatever he had to offer?

 

"You breathing okay now?" Gibbs asked in a clinical way that was at odds with his touch as his hand slid up Tony's chest and across one of his nipples in what might have been an accidental gesture, but one that caused the nub to immediately harden in reaction.

 

Tony nodded. He wanted to say something to indicate that he was receptive, but first he needed to be positive that Gibbs was interested in him - interested in _that_ way. The last thing Tony wanted to do was ruin a good working relationship by hitting on his boss, especially if he had his signals mixed. He could be wrong in believing that Gibbs was using the little accident out on the beach as an excuse to touch him with what felt like very intimate gestures, but Tony's instinct told him that Gibbs was as turned on as he was.

 

"Your ribs seem intact," Gibbs said impassively, his hands moving up Tony's neck and head, fingers riffling through his hair, making Tony shudder involuntarily.

 

"It was only an elbow in my stomach," Tony said with a shrug, allowing Gibbs to move his head to the side so he could get more light on his face. He tried not to wince when Gibbs touched the sore spot on the back of his head. "It's nothing," Tony insisted.

 

Gibbs delivered a mild glare and then his expression softened. "No new bruises and that lump on your head doesn't seem bad." He shook his head and pulled a 'what am I gonna do with you?' kind of look. "I don't like to see you hurt," he said, his voice low and soft.

 

"I'm fine," Tony responded, knowing it was a stupid and inaccurate thing to say. "It's not a big thing," he amended.

 

"It _is_ a big thing and I still don't like it." Gibbs pulled Tony's shirt down and while he seemed to be collecting his thoughts, his hand drifted down to hold Tony's forearms, just above the dingy bandages that encompassed his wrists. "Your wrists?" he asked, looking into Tony's eyes.

 

Tony didn't even glance at his wrists. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from Gibbs' eyes, searching them for confirmation that he wasn't imagining all of these undercurrents. "Jethro," he whispered, making the name he'd only used a handful of times in all the years he'd known Gibbs sound like a question.

 

Gibbs' hands dropped away as if he'd been burned and he immediately turned and moved to the kitchen. He returned a minute later with a glass of water and a couple of pills in his hand. Gibbs didn't even look Tony in the face when he said, "Tylenol."

 

Tony's heart sunk. It seemed as though he had misinterpreted Gibbs' feelings, or his intentions, after all. Well, that was that, so he might as well forget about his misguided fantasies. Tony berated himself for having been a complete idiot. Gibbs had always been a man for the ladies, the marrying kind of guy. Disappointed beyond measure, Tony sighed heavily. He was aching all over so he took the medication from Gibbs' hand without making any fuss and said tiredly, "I'll take the bed tonight and tomorrow we'll trade and I'll sleep on the couch. There are pillows and blankets in there." He waved vaguely in the direction of a closet. "I'm going upstairs."

 

Gibbs frowned and took a step forward but Tony turned his back on his boss and headed for the stairs. He didn't like being reamed out for what was undeniably an accident. Okay, he shouldn’t have been playing in the first place, and he was going to pay for it come morning, but at the time it had seemed like a good idea. Hell, it was fun, and he'd needed some fun after the past few days. He'd been having a good time ever since Gibbs had said he'd join him for the weekend, but now he felt like he had made a mistake in even coming here. His belly ached where the young football player had collided with him, and the truth was that his wrists were really sore and one felt suspiciously damp. Tony hoped it wasn't bleeding because that would piss Gibbs off even more and Tony really couldn’t face his anger right now.

 

"Night, Tony," Gibbs said softly.

 

Tony didn't reply.

 

***–***

TBC

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7 - Truce**

 

_If I learned anything from that experience, it's that battlefields are unpredictable places - even under a flag of _truce_._

_~ Dr. Phlox, from 'Star Trek: Enterprise'_

 

Tony came out of the upstairs bathroom, wearing only his pajama bottoms, only to find Gibbs standing in the bedroom doorway with a steaming mug in each hand. Tony made a huffing sound and headed for the big bed, lips pressed together in case he blurted something he'd regret. To say he was a bit annoyed with Gibbs was an understatement. Gibbs had come this close, _this close_ to going for it. How could he touch him like that and then back off? Gibbs had been stroking his skin, for God's sake, and nobody could tell Tony that had been Gibbs' way of checking him out for injuries after getting sacked during the football game.

 

Gibbs said nothing so Tony asked, "You checking up on me? See, I've got everything under control." He held up his bandaged wrists as evidence. He'd managed to re-wrap them himself after his shower. They weren't as neatly bound as they'd be if Gibbs or Ducky had done them, but Tony thought he'd done a pretty good job, even if he'd been a bit too liberal with the tape.

 

Gibbs shook his head slowly and offered one of the mugs to Tony, holding it out at arm's length. "Cocoa."

 

Tony detected a chocolaty aroma that made him salivate but he spurned Gibbs' attempt at reconciliation. If that's what it was. He also ignored the way Gibbs was eyeing his body while he went about making himself comfortable in the big bed. Conscious of his bare chest, Tony thought about putting on a shirt, but that would let Gibbs know that his steady gaze made him nervous. Which it didn't. Not at all. Tony lay on his back, head raised on a pile of pillows, and looked anywhere but at Gibbs. He considered turning off bedside lamp and effectively shutting Gibbs out, but a part of Tony wanted to see what Gibbs had to say, other than the bluntly spoken 'cocoa.'

 

After standing indecisively in the doorway for a moment, Gibbs stepped up to the bed and enticed, "It's hot."

 

Tony didn't respond.

 

Gibbs said, "Made it specially for you."

 

Tony plumped a couple of pillows up behind him and crossed his arms over his chest. Damn it, why was it that Gibbs could be as mean as hell one minute and then he'd turn around and do something so thoughtful? Tony studied the edging on the blanket for a minute then cocked his head slightly to one side as if weighing his options. "Did you add marshmallows?"

 

One corner of Gibbs' mouth lifted in a fleeting smile, but then it disappeared as if it had never been there. "Yup."

 

"Big ones?"

 

"Really big ones. Huge, even."

 

Tony milked out the silence for as long as he could, trying not to smile, and then he edged over to allow Gibbs a place to sit. "Okay."

 

Gibbs handed Tony one of the mugs, saying, "Careful, mug's hot." He sat cautiously on the edge of the bed, his back to Tony, his rear end pressing against Tony's leg. Although there was a heavy blanket acting as a buffer of sorts, Tony sucked in a breath at the contact.

 

Gibbs didn’t seem at all affected. He sipped his cocoa and made an appreciative sound. After a moment he turned his head and nodded at Tony's wrists. "Was the left one bleeding?"

 

"A little," Tony admitted, wondering how Gibbs had known. He had plenty of experience taking care of his own injuries, and was well equipped to do so, as the size of his first aid box attested.

 

"You want me to look at it?"

 

"No, I got it." He'd slathered antibiotic ointment over the wound without looking at it too closely.

 

There was silence for a minute and then Gibbs asked quietly, "You'd ask me for help if you needed it, right?"

 

"Yeah, I'd ask you if I needed help, but I've got it. Thanks." He meant it, too. There was nobody he trusted quite like Gibbs. The older man seemed satisfied with Tony's response; he nodded and sipped at his drink. Tony couldn't help but smile at the sight of Gibbs sitting on his bed, drinking hot cocoa, wearing old blue jeans and a white t-shirt that showed off his muscular arms. He looked very James Dean-like, if only James Dean had lived to be fifty-something.

 

Tony drank his cocoa and watched the big marshmallows floating around. They were too big for the mug and were really meant for toasting over a campfire on the beach, and the way they jostled against each other in the confined space reminded him of himself and Gibbs. Looking for something to say to break what was fast becoming an awkward silence, Tony asked, "You ever hear of a cocktail called The Big Hug? It's got chocolate in it, with Irish cream and crème de cacao."

 

"No. Sounds like Abby's kind of drink," Gibbs said. He seemed preoccupied and didn’t look up.

 

"Yeah, that's what I thought, too." Tony had a good view of Gibbs' back and admired the curve of his spine and the muscles visible through his shirt. Nice shoulders, pretty big biceps. It was a shame that Gibbs always covered up his trim, muscular physique with those loose sports jackets.

 

Tony noticed how Gibbs' downcast eyes were glaring at his hot drink as if it were the enemy. Nervous, he wondered what was next on the agenda. A mug of cocoa lasted only so long, and then what? They'd say polite but slightly nervous goodnights, and then Gibbs would go downstairs to sleep on the small couch? He'd probably end up sacking out on the floor and Tony really didn't want that – Gibbs would wake up with a bad back and their plans to go sailing would have to be cancelled.

 

All of a sudden it hit Tony that it was obvious what was going to happen next. It was simple: he was going to sleep with Gibbs. It was like a voice out of nowhere, a 'Field of Dreams' kind of moment. 'Make a bed and Gibbs will come,' he thought, almost laughing aloud at the pun. Immediately a picture came to mind of a naked Gibbs spread across his bed, jacking himself off and ejaculating over his own belly, and that got Tony's dick more than a little excited. He shifted and the mattress gave a little but Gibbs didn't even look up.

 

There was no question in Tony's mind about it; the decision was already made. In fact, the path they'd been treading to get to this point had pretty much been predetermined from that moment in the parking garage when he had enticed Gibbs to accompany him to the cottage. The deal had been cemented when Gibbs had accepted the invitation. They'd both known that it was about more than a sailboat – a lot more.

 

Come to think of it, Tony had opened the door when he practically propositioned Gibbs a couple of nights ago when they were lying next to each other on his bed. Tony mentally slapped the back of his head for admitting to Gibbs that he'd had a hard-on because he'd been tied up by Cord, and then asking Gibbs – _Gibbs_ of all people – if he had any leather cuffs at home. God, that was embarrassing.

 

Yeah, he definitely wanted to sleep with Gibbs in the big bed tonight, and there had better be some hot sex involved, too, because he was ready for it. Getting more ready by the second. If Gibbs looked over his shoulder he'd see just how ready Tony was, because his hardon was pretty obvious despite the heavy blanket. The problem was that it looked as if neither of them was ready to make the first move. Gibbs had come close, downstairs, but something had spooked him and made him back off in a hurry.

 

Tony was about to come up with some kind of line that would let Gibbs know how he felt, when Gibbs gave him a sideways glance. Immediately Tony felt a connection running between them, like an electric current and even though Gibbs averted his gaze, it was apparent that Gibbs had felt it too. His shoulders were tense and his breathing not quite even, and Tony would bet that if he were to get a look at Gibbs' lap he'd see those James-Dean jeans were mighty tight. Feeling the slight pressure of Gibbs' ass against his leg was making Tony's heart speed up, and it was becoming more and more difficult to refrain from simply reaching out and touching the older man.

 

Gibbs sighed and leaned forward, his head dropping towards the mug he held between his two work-roughened palms. His neck was exposed, looking surprisingly vulnerable and inviting. Tony wanted to run his fingers through the short hairs at the back of Gibbs' head, to scratch the rough bristles with his fingernails. He desired nothing more than to slide a palm across the broad shoulders, and to skim gentle fingertips along the hint of skin that was exposed where Gibbs' shirt had ridden up a little above the waistband of his jeans.

 

There was no longer any point in pretending. Tony had always been drawn to Gibbs, and now that pull had become an attraction, and a damned strong one, too. He'd never been interested in men before, not in this way, but Gibbs held a fascination all his own. Tony had denied his feelings for a long time, probably since the first time he'd ever laid eyes on Special Agent Gibbs back in Baltimore, on a cold winter day when they'd collided over a crime scene. That was years ago and they'd wasted so much time.

 

And although he wanted and _needed_ more of Gibbs, to touch and to feel and to be a _part_ of him, a part of his life outside work, Tony found he couldn't make the first move. Maybe it was his nature to follow. It certainly felt natural to follow Gibbs – he'd been doing it for years without a second thought. But this man-to-man sex was unfamiliar territory, and frankly it scared Tony a lot, especially the emotional stuff. It was just that he was practiced at concealing what was going on inside; he was so used to holding back that he wasn't sure he would be any good at sustaining a relationship, and being the kind of lover that Gibbs expected. Assuming that Gibbs wanted him, and that Gibbs knew what he was getting into.

 

So far the longest anybody had wanted to stick around Tony DiNozzo was four months, and that had only happened once, many years ago. Most of his affairs had lasted no more than a midnight-to-dawn shift, though to be fair, Tony had developed the habit of sneaking out before the sun rose. It was the best way to avoid the awkward morning after and the lies that tended to tumble from both parties' lips. _It's been great. See you around. Sure, I'll call you._

 

Then Tony realized how stupid he was being, because out of all the people in the world, Gibbs was the one person who knew him the best. There weren't likely to be any big surprises. Gibbs already knew Tony's background, his habits, his strengths and weaknesses. There was a part of him though, that Tony had never completely exposed to anyone before, not even to Abby, and he was close to her. He'd always held back, all his adult life, afraid of getting his heart stomped on, afraid that if anyone saw what he was really like – saw his fears and dark thoughts and insecurities – that they'd throw up their hands and be done with him. He wasn't worth the trouble, the investment.

 

Only…with Gibbs, Tony was willing to take the chance. For him, he'd open up, he'd give his all. Gibbs, he trusted. He was patient and caring and protective and he'd never leave a man behind. And, for some unknown reason, he seemed to want Tony.

 

Except that now it looked like they were at a standstill. It appeared that the former Marine was going to sit there like a lump all night staring at the remains of his cocoa unless he was prompted. Tony might not be willing to take the initiative and get the show on the road, but he _could_ give Gibbs a nudge in the right direction.

 

Time for action. Tony cleared his throat and said lightly, "Wouldn't have thought you were a cocoa kinda guy, Jethro. If I'd known, I would have seduced you with hot chocolate the other morning instead of giving you my special imported coffee beans."

 

Gibbs concentrated on something interesting in his mug while he rubbed his thumb along the side of his jaw. "Yeah, well, sometimes I get seduced by things I should keep the hell away from," he said with a deep sigh.

 

If Tony had any doubts earlier as to what was going on in Gibbs' mind, things were now a bit more clear. Gibbs voice had an underlying tone of longing to it that couldn't be suppressed. It might be a nuance, but it was most definitely there. Tony asked gently, "That so bad, being seduced?"

 

All of a sudden Gibbs stood as if he was going to leave. Instead, he placed his mug on the bedside table, took Tony's mug from his weak grasp and put it next to his, and then turned to look down at him. Tony raised his face and met the man's eyes, which were dark and so full of uncertainty – so unlike Gibbs – that he was barely able to resist the urge to reach up and touch his face in reassurance. Tony forced himself to wait. It was so damned hard, when his fingers were itching to touch Gibbs, to bring him comfort and whatever else he needed. He wasn't sure why, but it was important that Gibbs… Jethro… should come to him.

 

Gibbs swallowed and said, "I was _worried_ about you."

 

Tony flashed back to lying flat out on the sand and opening his eyes to find Gibbs' concerned face hovering over him. "I was only winded." Tony started to smile and assure Gibbs he wasn't any worse for wear, but he faltered when he saw how serious Gibbs looked. Tony shrugged it off, not understanding what the big deal was. "Yeah, well, you know me. Not too smart, playing contact sports so soon after being in the ER. Ducky would say–"

 

Gibbs cut in, saying forcefully, "I thought you were _dead_."

 

Startled, it took Tony a moment to respond. He gave a little laugh and said, "I told you – I was only winded."

 

Gibbs clarified, "In the hotel."

 

Okay, that made more sense. "You mean at the Barclay."

 

Gibbs raised his chin.

 

"Yeah, well…" Tony didn't say that he had thought he was a goner, too, that at any minute he was about to get sliced into a bunch of tiny pieces by Cord's huge knife. He didn't want to get into this again, with the guilt and shit, and the admission that they'd both made mistakes. Tony reasoned, "Look, I wasn't dead. You know I wouldn't dare die on your watch, Boss."

 

Gibbs looked like he was about to give some caustic response but then his expression eased. He slowly leaned forward, bracing one hand on the wooden headboard. Their eyes met and the intensity in Gibbs' eyes shook Tony and his heart started hammering away and his chest hurt in an unfamiliar way. "Boss?" he asked uncertainly. Tony was mesmerized by Gibbs' mouth. His nicely shaped lips were compressed in a stern line, and _God_ , Gibbs was sexywhen he was like this.

 

"Don't call me that," Gibbs ordered, his voice low and husky. He reached out to gently cup Tony's bruised cheek and he lowered his face until their mouths were mere inches apart. His thumb moved across the corner of Tony's mouth, gently stroking the bruised skin there. "What am I gonna do with you?" he murmured, looking at him quizzically as if he really wanted Tony to tell him the answer.

 

Oh God, oh God, this was it, the point of no return. Tony's mouth was dry, and there was a burning deep in his belly, and he was so close to freaking out he couldn’t breathe. "Jethro? I…I'm not sure…I don't swing that way." God, why had he said that? Why had he rejected Gibbs' advances? Hadn't he just been thinking that he was willing and even eager to give it a try? Of all the times he'd been afraid to see disappointment in Gibbs' eyes, Tony had never envisioned it to be under these circumstances, nor had he imagined the sight would be quite so painful.

 

Gibbs' hand dropped away and there was a sad light in his eyes when he said, "Sorry to hear that. Guess we'll never know…"

 

Tony wanted to take it back – he _had_ to make things right – so he said, almost in a whisper, "I'm sorry, Jethro."

 

He didn't know why he had these mixed-up feelings for Gibbs, and why he couldn’t make up his damned mind. It may have been fear of how his life would change so radically, and how he would be altering Gibbs' life along with his own, should he take the next step, should he commit. The last thing Tony wanted to do was drag Gibbs down if things didn't work out, or if they were discovered. There was a lot at stake here and the responsibility for his actions weighed heavy upon him.

 

"Yeah." Gibbs' eyes were on Tony's mouth and his tongue slipped out to wet his lips but he squared his shoulders and stepped back. He gave Tony a small regretful smile, and then it was gone, and his features settled into a look of resignation.

 

The moment Tony lost physical contact with Gibbs a part of him ached badly, far more than he ever would have expected. He reached out and grabbed Gibbs' arm to prevent him from moving away, and the words spilled out of his mouth before he could even think. "Wait!" Then, more gently, "Wait, Gibbs. I don't…I don't want you to go, and I don't know if this is going to work out but I want to…I think I need to…Hell, I can't let you leave without at least _trying_."

 

Gibbs was studying him, seeking affirmation.

 

"I mean I want to be with you," Tony ended up saying firmly, his heart beating wildly once again at the hope that appeared in Gibbs eyes.

 

"You really sure?" Gibbs paused, not quite trusting that Tony wasn't going to change his mind again. "Because I'm not gonna ask you again."

 

Gibbs was scared, too, Tony realized, stunned, and seeing his feelings so exposed gave Tony a sense of determination. It wasn't just him; they were both about to go out on a limb. Gibbs was willing to risk everything for him – how much more could he ask of the man? Tony's heart told him this was right, that he had to cast his fears aside and take the chance, step up to the plate. He said tentatively, "Might as well try out for the other team. If you still want me, that is."

 

Gibbs studied Tony's face, trying to gauge his level of commitment. "I want more than a pinch-hitter, Tony."

 

"I know that. I won't let you down." He wouldn't, either. Tony smiled and asked, "Does this position come with a seasonal contract?"

 

Gibbs moved closer, ever so slowly, as if he was afraid he was going to scare Tony off, until he was right beside the bed again, only inches away. "I only sign long-term contracts, Tony. No short leases, no waivers, no trading to another team, you understand?"

 

Tony nodded and tried to breathe evenly, especially as he was starting to feel like he was the prey because of the way Gibbs was staring at him intently. "Okay. I mean yes. Yes," Tony said. "I've…uh…I've got a question for you."

 

Gibbs nodded and said, "Shoot."

 

"Okay, does this mean if I have sex with you and I get an erection and we get it on and…I mean if I _like_ having sex with you, with a _man_ , and if we like having it together, because it takes two to tango, right? Well, most of the time it takes two, even though I've had some pretty hot single-action scenes…but you don't need to know that…" He was babbling and Gibbs' eyebrows were raised in that way he had that meant he was about to cut Tony to the quick if he didn't wrap this up fast. Tony quickly continued, "So if I have a really good time with you, does that mean that I'm…gay? That _you're_ gay? Are you gay, Jethro, because I never got a gay vibe off you, not that I was ever looking for any. I mean this _is_ gay sex, right, so this makes us…uh…gay?"

 

Gibbs sent Tony an exasperated look and tapped him on the side of the head. "Tony, stop over-thinking this. I want you, and I'm pretty sure you want me, so what's the problem? Make up your damned mind," Gibbs warned in a low growl. "Last chance, because once we start this I am _not_ gonna let you go."

 

Tony made a small sound and parted his lips slightly to invite what he knew was coming, but so far had been afraid to accept. "I don't want you to ever let me go," he said, his voice shaky with relief. Beyond thinking, he leaned forward just as Gibbs' mouth descended on his in a kiss, a fervent kiss that quickly deepened into something far more impassioned than Tony had ever imagined – a kiss that expressed everything they had both been holding back. His mind reeling, Tony closed his eyes and drank in the taste of Gibbs and gave in to the utterly arousing caress of his lips and tongue. God, he could drown in Gibbs' kisses, and in the feeling of Gibbs' hands on his bare arms, holding him tight in his strong grip, lifting him up until he was rising up on his knees, dragging a moan out of him – how had he ever thought he could live without this?

 

Gibbs broke the kiss long enough to toe off his shoes and pull his shirt over his head, giving Tony a glimpse of the lean chest, lightly covered with silver hair. Gibbs' nipples were flat and dusky brown, and his chest was dusted with freckles that Tony found strangely endearing.

 

Tony kicked away the bedclothes, boldly grabbed Gibbs's arms and dragged him to lie on top of him, causing the mattress to bounce. An elbow glanced off Tony ribs hard enough to elicit a grunt. Gibbs murmured an apologetic noise but didn't stop. Their mouths met again, wet and sloppy, heads angling for a better fit and finding it, tongues battling until Tony eventually acquiesced and let Gibbs win. After a while, Gibbs pulled back, breathing hard, with a great big grin on his face.

 

Tony enjoyed the look of pure pleasure on Gibbs' flushed face, and he loved that he'd been the one to arouse Gibbs so much his pupils were large and dark. Their mouths met again, tenderly, with slow kisses and exploring tongues tinted with the taste of cocoa mingling with their own unique flavors. Tony could barely think, his own need growing until it was about to consume him. He fumbled for the zipper on Gibbs' jeans just as Gibbs raised his hips with the same thing in mind, and between them they pushed his pants and white boxers down and off in an eager, clumsy struggle that left Tony laughing.

 

Gibbs shifted most of his weight off Tony, to lie by his side. "Tony, you're sure?"

 

"Yes, damn it," Tony replied breathlessly. He indicated his cock, which was hard and tenting his pajama bottoms. "Can't you tell?"

 

"Oh yeah, hard to miss." Gibbs' palm caressed Tony's abdomen, gentle across the bruised and tender flesh, fingers sliding under the waistband of his pajamas to stroke Tony's hipbone. "Maybe we should put this off a few days; I don't want to hurt you. Your mouth…"

 

Tony laughed shakily. He'd forgotten about the bruise on the corner of his mouth. "I'm fine, can't feel a thing," he said. "Except the feeling that I want you, _have_ to have you."

 

Gibbs shot him a look of warning. "The first hint I see that you're in pain…"

 

"You'll be the first to know, okay? Can we get on with this?" Tony wiggled out of his pajama pants and tossed them aside, and then he was free, too, his cock jutting up from a dark thatch of hair. All it took was for Gibbs to skim a fingertip along its underside for Tony's erection to rise in response. There was no time for awkwardness because Gibbs' naked body was sliding along his bare skin for the first time, all heat and muscle, and incredible strength matched by unbelievable gentleness, so unlike anything he'd expected. Gibbs' dick was pressing insistently against his thigh, and it was damned big, and Tony tried not to think of where Gibbs was going to stick it sometime soon because he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to handle it.

 

Tony tilted his head to one side while Gibbs' lips explored the soft skin his under his ear and along his neck to his vulnerable throat, and then slowly kissed and sucked his way back up to claim Tony's mouth once again. Gibbs' chin scraped across Tony's skin, fine sandpaper that made him shiver, reminding him this was a man who was loving him. Yeah, this was different and scary yet so _right_.

 

Tony's moans filled the room, expressing just how needy he was. And he really needed Gibbs…needed _Jethro_. Gibbs kissed him and Tony felt himself falling, falling in love.

 

***–***

TBC

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8 - Concessions**

 

_The result of this union would be, not the fortuitous result of a series of approximations and concessions, but the harmonious synthesis of two aspects of a single thought.  
~ Jacques Ibert, French composer (1890-1962)_

 

No doubt about it – he had died and gone to heaven. "Oh God…don't…don't stop…"

 

"Didn't plan to," Gibbs said with a wicked smile, and went right back to sucking on Tony's nipples. He took his own sweet time, licking and mouthing each erect nub with a great deal of attention.

 

"You're gonna drive…me crazy," gasped Tony, grabbing a handful of Gibbs' hair.

 

"You sure you don't want me to stop?" Gibbs paused. He licked his lips while he awaited confirmation.

 

"Don't you dare," Tony moaned, closing his eyes. Gibbs tugged on one of the sensitive nipples with his teeth and Tony's fingers reflexively clutched at his head.

 

Gibbs tongued the nipple, circling and teasing. "Nipple clamps," said Gibbs, as if weighing their merits.

 

Tony whimpered at the thought and pulled even harder on Gibbs' hair. "Jesus…"

 

"I'll improvise if you keep on doing that, maybe find some bulldog clips downstairs," Gibbs threatened, though there was a twinkle in his eye.

 

"Oh. Shit. Sorry." Relinquishing his death-grip on Gibbs' silver hair, Tony combed his fingers through it instead, and he was rewarded with a chuckle from Gibbs and a soft kiss on his lips.

 

Gibbs began to slowly kiss his way across Tony's chest, making throaty grunts of satisfaction.  Tony watched him as he made his way down his body, fascinated and a little bit stunned that the Gibbs he knew, the daunting man who was so good at bossing his people around, was so being open and understanding and…well, so _loving_. He never would have thought that Gibbs was into men, or that he would be so damned good at sex with another guy. With women maybe, but not with men. Not that it mattered; far from it. It was fortunate that one of them had some experience with this, with men, and Tony was more than happy to let Gibbs lead the way into what was, to him, unknown territory.

 

Encouraging Tony to spread his legs wider apart, Gibbs slipped down in the bed, tracing a line soft wet kisses and not-so-gentle bites to the tender skin at the junction of Tony's thigh and groin. Tony quivered and moaned and tried to move, needing some friction, but he was pinned down by Gibbs' solid weight. His dick was squashed between them, which wasn't such a bad thing, but he wriggled a bit, just to prove that he could. When Gibbs held him in place with a growl, arousal coursed through Tony, setting his body alight from his scalp all the way down to his toes.

 

With a hand on Tony's thigh anchoring him in place, Gibbs took hold of his dick with his free hand and squeezed it. He was using a little more pressure than Tony usually liked but it was good anyway because this was Gibbs, and somehow Gibbs knew exactly what he needed. There was even more pressure when Gibbs began to pump his hand up and down, rubbing his callused thumb across its head on every upstroke and smearing pre-come around. Every time Gibbs touched the sensitive spot behind his dick-head, Tony gasped and thrust his rock-hard dick into Gibbs' tight fist – and every time Gibbs smiled with satisfaction.

 

Gibbs took one of Tony's nipples between his thumb and finger and did a rolling tug motion that had Tony writhing, and then Gibbs' hand was back on Tony's dick. _Where it belongs_ , thought Tony. He moaned helplessly, arching his back, driving his head into the pillow while he cried out for it to stop. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take. His cock was throbbing, like it was going to explode, matching the rapid beat of the blood thrumming loudly in his ears. Breathing hard and hanging onto Gibbs' shoulders, Tony was just getting into the rhythm when all of a sudden Gibbs lowered his head and wrapped his wet, hot mouth around his dick. Gibbs sucked him hard and pressed one of his big, blunt fingers against Tony's asshole at the same time, just a tap, really, but it made Tony almost fly off the bed.

 

"Fuck!" Tony clutched wildly at Gibbs and fucked his mouth, and Gibbs laughed, actually _laughed_ around a mouthful of Tony's cock. The vibrations drove Tony that much closer to the edge. He couldn’t get enough of the man, and wanted more, so much more, but God, this was all too fucking fast. Tony warned with an edge of desperation to his voice, "I'm gonna come, gonna…"

 

Immediately Gibbs backed off and the delicious heat and suction was gone, and so was the finger that Gibbs had been pressing _there_. Tony was left humping the air and crying out in frustration, "No, no! Don't go…"

 

But Gibbs was right there, hovering over him, soothing him with, "Easy, easy, you're not gonna come, not yet." Gibbs wrapped his fingers around the base of Tony's dick to help him hold off, and he claimed Tony's mouth in a deep, hard kiss that seemed like it was more of a declaration of ownership than a sign of affection. Their tongues met and thrust and parried while their heads angled to find the right fit, and now Gibbs was moaning, too, which turned Tony on like nothing else.

 

Tony was shaking by the time the kiss ended. He didn't know why he should feel so raw and fucking _needy_. This was Gibbs, and he trusted the man, always had – so what was the problem? They hadn't even done the deed, not yet, yet here he was, losing it. Tony buried his face in Gibbs' neck, and held him close, discovering an unexpected affinity with his maleness, his strength, his well-defined shoulders and rugged, carpenter's hands. He inhaled deeply, his senses reeling, losing himself in Gibbs' scent: sweat and cocoa, and warm, musky arousal. "Jethro… I don't…," he mumbled, mouth pressed to Gibbs' heated skin, wanting to drink him in.

 

Gibbs pulled back until he could see Tony's face, his brows raised in question. "What is it?" He smoothed Tony's damp hair back from his face, his eyes far too kind and understanding. "Tell me what you want, Tony."

 

How could he tell him when he didn't know himself? Here was Gibbs, once again being so damned considerate, giving more than he took. In a way it would be easier if this was the other Gibbs, the one who snarled and glared until you were practically begging for a slap just to ease the tension.

 

Gibbs shifted a little and Tony could feel his erection pressing against his groin. Gibbs released his hold on Tony's dick, and another adjustment of his weight and their dicks were lined up, hot and leaking. Intent blue eyes locked on Tony's while Gibbs slowly rocked his hips in carefully controlled thrusts. "This what you want?" Gibbs asked, his face flushed with arousal.

 

Gibbs rubbed his dick against Tony's, again and again, and God, it was so fucking _good_. Tony swallowed and said hoarsely, "I want you…" He rose up to meet Gibbs, thrust for thrust, their bellies slippery with sweat. Tony was humping him like a dog desperate to get off, forcing the pace faster, panting and shaking with desire.

 

Gibbs took hold of his shoulders and pressed him to the mattress, stilling Tony's frantic movements. "Shhh, slow down." He raised a hand to caress Tony's face in a gesture so loving that Tony had to swallow and work hard to regain some semblance of control. God, he hated that, getting all emotional over something so simple as a gentle touch but he hadn't felt that kind of connection, that deep, hearts-connecting kind of _love_ before. Gibbs smiled as if he saw right through him. He kissed Tony with a rough sweep of his tongue then murmured against his swollen lips, "I want you, too."

 

"Why? Why are you doing this?"

 

Gibbs didn't answer right away. He gave a little shrug and said, "Decided it was a good time to do what we both wanted. You do want it, don't you?" As he spoke, Gibbs slowly stroked the length of Tony's cock with his fingertips, and all Tony could manage was a nod. "I want to love you," Gibbs said. Tony nodded again, agreeing, acquiescing with all his heart, not caring that his bottom lip was trembling. "Good," said Gibbs.

 

He moved his mouth close to Tony's but didn't kiss him. He waited until Tony got the message and raised his head a little and their lips met. They kissed just long enough for whatever last-minute panic Tony had been experiencing to drift away. This was what he wanted, to be cared for and to be loved, yes _loved_ by Gibbs. By Jethro, he reminded himself. "Jethro," he whispered in between kisses. Oh God, this was real; Jethro wanted him, wanted to _make love_ with him, wanted to love _him_ , and the certainty of it all made Tony's worries and concerns melt away.

 

Gibbs continued to caress Tony's dick and he played with his balls with an experienced hand, and soon the sense of urgency returned. Tony clung to Gibbs, his hands caressing Gibbs in return, offering encouragement with long seductive strokes up the broad planes of his muscular back to his shoulders. They adjusted their positions a little and Tony was able to reach out– finally – and take possession of Gibbs' dick. It was hot and pulsing, and as hard as a rock, and that excited Tony more than he would have ever believed possible. He slid his hand along Gibbs' hot, velvety shaft and brushed his thumb across its wet tip and into the slit, relishing the way Gibbs sucked in a sharp breath, and the way his muscles tensed when he touched him just so.

 

While Gibbs sucked at the skin under Tony's jaw and nibbled at his earlobe, Tony explored Gibbs' tautly muscled ass with eager hands and even risked sliding his fingers into the cleft between the firm cheeks. Gibbs responded with a groan, his hips bucking against Tony, panting into his ear. God, the man felt so good, made up of solid muscle and bone, rough hands and heavy limbs. All Tony wanted now was for Jethro to take him, to claim him as his own. Never in his wildest dreams had he ever thought that he could feel this way, so willing and ready to relinquish his body, to give up what little remained of his self-control – give it all to Jethro Gibbs. It felt so right that he wondered why he'd ever questioned any of it. Gibbs had always taken care of him, and cared _for_ him, and was now proving, with every kiss and caress, that he wanted Tony just as much as Tony wanted him.

 

Gibbs's mouth was upon Tony's again, his kiss demanding. Tony melted into his arms, moaning into his mouth, raising his hips in response. They were rubbing, grinding their bodies against each other, cocks slick with pre-come. Legs and groins pressed insistently against each other in a dance of give and take, every nerve ending alive and screaming for more. Gibbs' lips were on Tony's, full and possessive and hungry, his callused hands exerting control over Tony's all-too willing flesh, and then suddenly Gibbs hesitated and a second later rolled off him, to the side, with a breathless, "Wait…just wait."

 

Tony lay there breathing heavily, wanting Gibbs' warm body to be back on top of him, wondering what he'd done wrong. "What…?"

 

He listened to Gibbs rummage around in the bedside table, and then demand angrily, "Tony, where the fuck's a condom…some lube?"

 

It would have been funny except that Tony, for once in his life, was unprepared. Gibbs had obviously come empty-handed as well, and a quick check in the nightstand on Tony's side of the bed produced an almost used-up tube of lubricant and nothing else. Tony flung himself across Gibbs' body to re-check the nightstand on Gibbs' side of the bed, not quite trusting there were no supplies at all, and swore when it became apparent there were no condoms in the house. "At least we've got some lube," Tony said, holding the tube aloft enticingly. "Enough for one inning."

 

Gibbs lay on his back with a groan and ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "We shouldn't," he said with deep regret, closing his eyes for a moment. "Can't."

 

Tony smiled at Gibbs' forlorn expression and brazenly straddled his hips, sliding both hands up the man's belly and chest to rub circles around his nipples. He licked one and then did some of that tugging and twisting action that Gibbs had done to him and got the desired results – a wince and a gasp of pleasure. "How 'bout bareback?" Tony asked, not really expecting Gibbs to take him up on the offer. He felt Gibbs' cock jerk between his legs but he wasn't sure if it was the nipple-tweaking or the thought of entering Tony, flesh-to-flesh, that was he was finding so hot. His own erection hadn't flagged at all, and Tony caught Gibbs looking at it before his eyes slid away.

 

"Tony," Gibbs said in warning. "Can't risk it." He ran his hands up Tony's sides, careful of his bruised abdomen and ribs, and said regretfully, "Maybe it's for the best. You need to heal up first."

 

Tony shrugged off Gibbs' concern. "I haven't felt a thing. The condoms though – I'm usually armed and ready," he said apologetically. "Just haven't given it a lot of thought lately. I mean I haven't thought of women. Been thinking of you." He kissed Gibbs as a way of reinforcing his words. "Thinking about us. I didn't think we'd actually get to this stage."

 

"Yeah. Me, too." Gibbs gripped Tony's forearms, just above his freshly bandaged wrists, and laid gentle kisses on each of his palms. "I don't want to hurt you," he said, fingertips gently touching the corner of Tony's mouth where Cord had struck him.

 

"Hasn't stopped you yet." Tony smiled tenderly at Gibbs, loving his gentle side. "I'm fine, Jethro. It doesn't hurt. You don't have to be careful." It was true; he hadn't given a second thought to any of his injuries since the moment that Gibbs first kissed him. Tony slid his hands up Gibbs' hairy chest to his shoulders and leaned in to nuzzle the soft skin of his armpit. He inhaled deeply. "God, this is such a turn-on."

 

"Sweat?"

 

Tony draped himself cross Gibbs' body and smiled. "Yeah, your sweat. You smell like a man, like Gibbs."

 

Gibbs took a deep, unsteady breath. "We…we need to cool off…"

 

"No, no…There has to be…" Suddenly Tony sat up straight and exclaimed, "Wait! I know!" Tony scrambled out of Gibbs' arms and ran naked down the stairs. A few minutes later he was back, out of breath but triumphant, holding a strip of condom packets and a tube of Astroglide aloft. "Yes! He scores! Glove compartment, behind the box of spare ammo," he said proudly and then jumped on top of Gibbs and kissed him playfully. "I'll bet you never thought you'd end up with Tony DiNozzo on top of you, about to give you the fuck of your life," he said boldly.

 

Tony was about to say more but Gibbs took hold of him around the waist and flipped him onto his back and pinned him down. "Hey!" Gibbs' mouth descended, stemming Tony's protest at being manhandled.

 

After Gibbs had finished a prolonged exploration of Tony's mouth, and had rendered him incapable of speech, he snapped open the top of the lube and squeezed out a dollop of the gel onto his fingers. "What was that you said, Tony? Who's gonna fuck who?" Gibbs demanded as his slicked-up fingers found his way into Tony's passage.

 

Tony's eyes opened wide and a squeak escaped his mouth. He panted at the feeling of fullness when the exploring finger was joined by another one deep inside his ass, but he spread his legs and raised his hips to allow Gibbs better access. His eyes closed despite wanting to see Gibbs' face, giving himself up to the incredible feeling of those magic fingers stroking a sensitive spot deep inside of him. Tony gave in willingly to the intense pleasure, moaning and mumbling words of encouragement. "Oh my God, my God, there, there Jethro!"

 

Gibbs' tongue parried with Tony's while his free hand grasped his ass possessively. Their mouths parted, leaving Tony breathless and wanting more. "Look at me, Tony," Gibbs ordered. "I want to see your eyes, want you to look at me while I fuck you."

 

Tony did as he was told, as he always did where Gibbs was concerned. He wrapped his arms around Gibbs' shoulders and gazed deeply into his eyes. "You gonna fuck me now?" he asked trustingly.

 

Gibbs nodded but he asked, "You've never done this before?"

 

Tony shook his head and said in a shaky voice, "No…"

 

"Not even this?" He added a third finger and scissored them until Tony let out a trembling whine.

 

"No…Not with anyone. Never wanted to…before."

 

"But you do now," Gibbs said, slowly moving his fingers in and out.

 

"God, yes," was Tony's fervent response. Didn't Jethro see? How could he not see how much he wanted him?

 

Smiling possessively, and squeezing Tony's cock for good measure, Gibbs said, "Good."

 

"You sure…you sure you're not doing this…" A fourth finger slipped inside Tony, and curled and stroked until he moaned softly. "Ohmygod…this isn't…isn't because you don't want to…sleep on the couch, is it?"

 

That made Gibbs smile, a feral grin that let Tony know he was in deep trouble. "I never agreed to sleep on that damned short couch." He kissed Tony again and then asked, his expression serious, "Do you want me to tie you?"

 

"What?" Tony asked, befuddled.

 

"Tie you up, cuff you? You want that? Need it?" Gibbs asked insistently.

 

Tony shook his head, unable to speak, but no, he definitely did not need that, not with Gibbs.

 

Gibbs nodded then slowly withdrew his fingers, rolled on a condom and lubed up his dick. He positioned Tony's long legs so his knees almost met his chest. "Hold onto my shoulders," Gibbs ordered. Then he moved his hips, pushing slowly, his cock meeting resistance – and then suddenly he was easing his way inside Tony.

 

Tony inhaled sharply, muscles tensing. "Wait! Wait," he pled, almost shouting, fingers digging into Gibb' shoulders. Immediately Gibbs stopped, his fingers gripping Tony's hipbones hard enough to leave fresh bruises. Tony met Gibbs' eyes and said in a trembling voice, "Just…wait a minute. Need to…need to..." He must have winced because he saw consternation pass across Gibbs' features and Tony knew that the man was going to pull out if he didn't say something to stop him. If they didn't go through with this, now, tonight, Tony was afraid he'd never get another chance. He knew that this was an important step to take, for both of them, and that it was going to change their lives. Gibbs needed this, too, and no way was Tony going to call a halt to it just because he was being a wuss over a bit of discomfort. Okay, it was a burning pain, but it wasn't anything he couldn’t handle.

 

Gibbs nodded and braced himself, not moving any further in, nor retracting, just watching Tony's face for a sign. He dipped his head and kissed Tony's chest lovingly. "Breathe, just relax and it'll be fine," he said soothingly.

 

Tony clung to Gibbs' broad shoulders, now slippery with sweat, and closed his eyes, steadying himself against Gibbs' sturdy body. This was something he wanted, needed, lusted for ­– having Gibbs hold him, sink deep inside his body in order to consummate this love, _their love_ ,damn it. Tony wanted this more than anything, but it was a big step and he didn't want to mess it up.

 

Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Tony met Gibbs' eyes square on and let him see how much he trusted him. Tony smiled a little, trying to project how much he cared for the man, how he really loved him and had done so for a long time now, even if he'd only just realized it. God, he actually loved grouchy old Gibbs, loved his bravery, his dedication, his uncompromising nature. But most of all he loved his big heart that he kept hidden away behind a battlement of gruffness that was as clever a disguise as anything Tony had ever constructed. He knew Gibbs, and Gibbs knew him, and Tony couldn’t say the same thing about anyone else in the world.

 

Tony saw the moment when Gibbs understood, when his whole face lit up. "Say it," Gibbs said in a low voice. "Tell me that you –."

 

"I want you, Jethro," Tony interrupted in a rush. "All of you, inside of me." He relaxed and angled his hips a little more and when Gibbs moved, and his dick slid in, Tony's eyes opened wide with surprise at the sheer bulk of it all. The pressure and heat increased as Gibbs set up a rhythm, rocking them back and forth in long slow motions.

 

This was all so new to Tony that he felt exposed, but this was Gibbs, strong and loving, so he wrapped his legs around Gibbs' lower back, trying to bring him closer, deeper, one hand grasping the back of Gibbs' neck in encouragement, the other fisting his own dick in time to the pounding in his ass. Tony's breath hitched and his head went back each time Gibbs hit that sensitive spot. The sounds they made, the grunts and groans, the smell of sweat from their heated bodies, and the feeling of Gibbs' dick pumping deep into him, faster now, had Tony crying out, "C'mon…c'mon…"

 

The whirl of sensations, the need and desire, the mind-numbing, inconceivable position he was in, pinned underneath Gibbs with his hot dick penetrating his ass, his hands doing indescribable things to him, touching him, stroking him there…and _there_ …The desperate sounds they made, the musky smell of their sex, the slapping of Gibbs' balls against his ass every time they met, the utter fucking improbability of it all…

 

Gibbs roughly moved Tony's hand away and took over working his cock, stroking faster and twisting harder. Their bodies met and retracted, collided and slid, sweat mingling as their actions became more fervent. Panting, groaning and pleading, Tony was arching and rising and straining to get all of him, up to the very hilt, as deep as was possible inside his body. It only took another stroke with a twist for Tony to shudder and climax with a scream.

 

Gibbs thrust several more times with a heightened sense of urgency and then erupted, hard and raw, hoarsely shouting Tony's name. His shoulders shook and he collapsed on top of Tony. He didn't move, just lay there sweating and panting hard until Tony hesitantly complained that he couldn’t breathe and pushed at his chest. Then Gibbs hugged him tightly and rolled them together to one side, still inside Tony, refusing to retract and lose their hard-earned intimacy.

 

Wiped out, Tony lay there in Gibbs' arms, unable to speak or even think, gazing with unfocused eyes at Gibbs' red and swollen mouth. A sudden breeze wafted through the window, cool as silk on his heated skin. Gibbs' breath was warm against Tony's neck, his hair tickling his jaw. Tony moved a little and Gibbs's dick slipped out, and he gave a soft cry from the pain and the loss.

 

A warm feeling flooded over Tony, at first so unfamiliar he couldn't determine what it was, but when Gibbs smiled and tightened his arms around him, Tony understood. He gave in to a sense of belonging, a rare feeling of courage and certainty that they could make this work. He believed that he had just as much to offer his lover as Gibbs was willing to give to him, and that it made them both stronger together than they could ever hope to be apart. Gibbs sighed against Tony's chest and his breathing deepened, bringing a smile to Tony's face as he, too, gave in to the pull of sleep.

 

***–***

 

"Jethro?"

 

"Mmm?"

 

"Jethro?" Gibbs was behind him, spooning, heavy arms wrapped possessively around his waist. Tony smiled smugly. "Jethro?"

 

"What? It's the middle of the damned night," Gibbs mumbled.

 

It was barely two, according to the bedside clock. "When can we do this again?"

 

Gibbs stiffened for a second, then relaxed. "Not yet."

 

"Soon?" Tony asked hopefully.

 

Gibbs muttered something under his breath and pulled Tony's ass snugly against his groin. "Had a good time, huh." He didn't make that a question because it was obvious they'd both really enjoyed themselves.

 

"Jethro?"

 

"Fuck, DiNozzo," Gibbs complained. "What now?"

 

Tony grinned into the darkness. "Does this mean I'm gay?"

 

Gibbs groaned into Tony's shoulder. "God give me strength."

 

"I think you're gonna need it," Tony informed him with a big smile.

 

***–***

TBC

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9 - Smooth Sailing**

 

_Welcome aboard the good ship Asskisser. Nice day for a _sail_! Pucker up, me 'earties!  
~ Dr. House, from 'House M.D.'_

 

The next morning Tony was just coming out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist when Gibbs appeared in the doorway, smelling of fresh air and coffee.

 

"Talked to the manager at the marina," Gibbs said as he eyed Tony appreciatively. "Boat seems sound. We should head out soon." He barely paused before asking sarcastically, "You ever wear a shirt, DiNozzo?"

 

Tony looked down at his bare chest. "Apparently not, Boss." It wasn't his fault that Gibbs kept catching him when he was half-dressed, or that apparently he couldn’t keep his eyes off him. Gibbs raised an eyebrow so Tony quickly amended, "I mean, apparently not, _Jethro_."

 

Tony dried himself off and turned his back on Gibbs when he slipped on his underwear. He was trying not to be self-conscious, which was tough to do when Gibbs was watching every move he made with a slight frown on his face. Okay, so he looked like shit because the bruises on his torso and face had changed into some truly gross colors, a cross between puce (as Ducky would say) and plum, but he wished Gibbs would stop staring or would at least say something.

 

Oh God, maybe Gibbs regretted having sex with him. Maybe this was going to be the big kiss-off, maybe things would be so fucking awkward from now on they wouldn’t be able to work together, maybe – Tony told his doubting mind to shut the hell up. After everything they'd done together last night, with mouths and hands and dicks, you'd have thought things would be easy, but now they'd seen each other naked, it seemed so…so serious. No doubt about it, sex changed the whole game.

 

Tony glanced at Gibbs, but his expression was hard to read. He hadn't advanced into the room, just leaned against the open doorway like he was expecting Tony to say or do something. Problem was, not only did Tony not have a clue what to say, but he was starting to think about how he could avoid sitting across from Gibbs during breakfast. Maybe once they were out on the boat, busy with…with whatever one does on a boat…things would sort themselves out and they'd get back into their natural groove. _On your six, Boss._

 

Christ, this was difficult. Last night had been wonderful, had exceeded Tony's expectations and fulfilled all his fantasies. Tony wanted to tell Gibbs that he'd been blown away by their lovemaking the night before. That it was special, being his first time and all, that he loved him, had for a long time now he thought about it.  It sounded way too girly to say aloud, even if it were true. 

Maybe he could say something like:

_'You can drink cocoa in my bed any day, Jethro.'_

_'Was it as good for you as it was for me, 'cause I got to tell you, man, you kick ass.'_

_'If I'd had known how fucking intense being fucked by you was gonna be, I'd have put my ass in the air a whole hell of a lot sooner, Boss.'_

_'I've realized, after a great deal of thought – in fact, after what is probably way too much introspection – that I am thoroughly, completely, absolutely in love with you, Leroy Jethro Gibbs.'_

 

Hell, he'd never be so brave. Instead, Tony busied himself, finding some warm clothes and pulling them on with brisk, efficient movements, all the time aware that Gibbs was watching him. He winced when he bent over to tie up his sneakers. Their lovemaking had left him pretty sore and his ribs were aching a bit, although the hot shower had helped.

 

As soon as Tony was dressed and couldn’t delay any longer, he approached Gibbs. Gibbs moved a few feet towards him and appeared to be waiting for something. Tony wasn't quite sure what for – maybe for Tony to finish getting ready so they could go down for breakfast together. This was crazy, the pair of them standing a couple of feet from each other, Gibbs almost-glaring at him, and neither of them able to say anything, so Tony took the initiative. He stepped right up to Gibbs and extended his arms, palms up, like he was offering himself up for some kind of sacrifice. "Um…I got the bandages wet again."

 

Gibbs' expression relaxed and he asked, in an even voice, "You want me to take care of that?"

 

Feeling hot all over, Tony wanted Gibbs to take care of a lot more than his wrists. He pushed up the sleeves of his sweater and nodded. "If you don't mind."

 

Gibbs surprised Tony by reaching out and drawing him flush to his chest in a warm, all-encompassing hug. "Morning," was all Gibbs said, his breath hot against Tony's hair. There was a kiss to his temple, and a hint of soap and aftershave as smooth cheeks brushed against each other. Heads angled and found the right fit, warm lips met and opened up to each other, and all Tony could think was that _this_ is where he belonged.

 

The kiss – and _oh God_ , what a kiss it was – deepened, and Tony moaned into Gibbs' mouth and tightened his arms around his broad back, all the time wondering how the hell he had ever made it through his entire life without being kissed by Gibbs. Forget mundane things like food and boats and everything else they'd ever thought they required in order to live. This was it. This was all the sustenance he'd ever need, thought Tony, reeling from Gibbs' kisses.

 

All of Tony's worries about the inevitable embarrassing morning-after encounter, and thoughts of avoiding breakfast, and rejection, just melted away. He was so stupid; what had he been thinking? This was Gibbs, _Gibbs_ , the man whose loyalty knew no bounds, who committed himself completely to any cause he took on, who believed in never leaving a man behind. The acts of last night – the sex, making love, the union of their bodies and their minds – to Gibbs every single one of those acts, every single touch was a promise.

 

And now Gibbs' tongue was doing a thorough search of Tony's mouth, inadvertently sliding across a tender spot where his inner cheek had been mashed against a tooth when Cord had backhanded him. Not caring that it hurt, Tony relaxed into the slow, deep kiss with a small sound of acceptance. When Gibbs' lips moved to his cheek and then suckled at the soft skin under his jaw, and his hot, wet tongue began to investigate his ear, Tony murmured, "Oh God, that's…that's good…but…um…are we…sailing?"

 

Gibbs pulled away, slowly and with obvious reluctance, but he retained Tony's hand as if he couldn’t quite bear to break contact with him. "Oh yeah. We could do something else if you want."

 

With a smile, because he liked having his hand held, and also because he couldn't remember Gibbs ever caring enough to ask him what he would like to do, Tony said, "No, I want to go sailing. Want to see my Marine in action. I mean action at _sea_ because I saw plenty of action last night in bed."

 

"You sure as hell did," Gibbs said with a smirk.

 

Tony had a strong desire to see Gibbs handling a sailboat, but at that moment he'd do anything that Gibbs wanted to do, go anywhere he wanted to go. Tony said truthfully, "I just want to be with you."

 

With a satisfied smile, Gibbs said, "Good, 'cause you're stuck with me." They grinned at each other until they both realized at about the same time that they'd better get a move on. Gibbs asked, "Your wrists. Where's your first-aid kit?"

 

"In my bag." Tony released Gibbs' hand and pulled his kit out of his overnight bag. He handed Gibbs the small bag that contained bandages, tape and antibiotic cream, and they sat next to each other on the bed.

 

"Couldn't fit your big tackle box in your suitcase?" asked Gibbs.

 

Tony retorted with a crooked smile, "Didn't know I was going to get tackled."

 

"On the beach or in bed?" Gibbs asked, pulling out the supplies. His head was bowed a little but Tony could see that he was trying hard to suppress a smile.

 

"The beach was out of left field, but the bed…now that was nice. A little unexpected, but nice all the same." Tony liked the familiar way Gibbs was treating him, and the way he ducked his head when he smiled, as if it was something he didn't want to get caught doing. But Tony, being Tony, wondered if _this_ Gibbs was just a temporary state of being, a special sweet-loving-tender-endearing Gibbs who showed himself only because they were in this secluded cottage, far from their real lives.

 

"Just nice?"

 

"It was good. Very _very_ good."

 

Gibbs' blue eyes twinkled. "Damn right it was. You up for more goodness later on?"

 

"I could be convinced," said Tony with exaggerated nonchalance.

 

"I can be convincing."

 

"You bragging, Jethro?"

 

"Nope, just telling it like it is." Gibbs smiled to himself as he applied first-aid cream to Tony's wrists and then wrapped fresh gauze around them. The left one was a bit raw and it had bled due to the roughhousing on the beach, but the stitches were intact. Gibbs asked, as he applied some tape to hold the bandage in place, "This one sore?"

 

Tony nodded. "A little." Gibbs placed a kiss in the center of his palm, causing Tony to flush. His dick twitched, too, and he hoped the growing bulge in his pants wasn't too obvious.

 

Gibbs made no bones about checking out Tony's crotch. He looked up to meet Tony's eyes and grinned. "You'd better add an extra box of condoms and lube to that travel kit from now on."

 

"Yes, sir," Tony responded briskly. "Extra lube, too." Blue eyes searched his face, unduly concerned, and Tony wondered what had caused Gibbs to change into serious-mode so suddenly. Tony sent an inquiring look at him, but there was no response. It didn't look like Gibbs was going to explain anytime soon, so Tony asked, "Is there something wrong?"

 

"You're sure you're okay?" Gibbs asked quietly.

 

"Uh, yeah, I'm fine," Tony replied, still unsure what going on. "How about you? You okay?"

 

Gibbs cleared his throat and ignored Tony's question. "I mean…are you sore?"

 

Tony glanced at his wrists and shrugged. "Nothing new. I should probably avoid contact sports for a while," he said with a short laugh. Gibbs was looking at him intently, like he expected Tony to figure out what was going on in his mind – which wasn't all that easy at times. Tony was about to suggest that Gibbs spell it out when he caught on. "Oh! Sore. You mean… _sore_." He felt his face heating up and man, he hated that, and he had to look away. Gibbs wasn't having any of that. He took Tony's hand and compelled him to look at him. There was real concern in Gibbs' expression so Tony squeezed his hand reassuringly.

 

Before he could say anything, Gibbs said tersely, "Hey, don't hide it if you…Look, if I hurt you…I can use some of that antibiotic cream on you and…Damn it, Tony, do you need me to glove up and take care of it or not?"

 

Tony wasn't sure whether to laugh or die of embarrassment. He raised one hand to prevent Gibbs from uttering another word. "No, no, I'm fine." Gibbs narrowed his eyes skeptically, so Tony admitted, "Well, yeah, it's a bit sore but…uh…I checked and everything's ship-shape back there." Gibbs looked relieved and Tony felt his heart fill with love for the man. Of all the stupid things to get mushy over, this took the cake. Impulsively he hugged Gibbs and kissed his ear. "I love that you care enough to volunteer to stick your finger in my ass, Jethro, but I'm fine. Really."

 

Gibbs held onto Tony like he never wanted to let him go, and even rocked him a little. Tony was afraid he was going to get overly emotional if they continued with much more of this hugging and stuff. He managed to disentangle himself from Gibbs' arms, even though it just about killed him to do so. "When's high tide?" he asked brightly, hoping to get the show on the road.

 

Gibbs rubbed his mouth and collected himself. "Uh, yeah. Couple of hours. Guess we'd better go."

 

Gibbs went ahead down the stairs, rattling off instructions as they made their way to the kitchen. "You grab us some breakfast and I'll pack some grub and coffee to take along. And you'll need something warm to wear and get one of those waterproof jackets for yourself," Gibbs ordered, indicating the outdoor gear hanging in the nearby storage room. "Storm's coming in late this afternoon, but we should be fine."

 

"Yessir, Cap'n," Tony replied with a salute. Looked like Gibbs was back to normal but Tony hoped that he'd see more of the other Gibbs that evening. Maybe they'd light the fire and have a cuddle on the couch, he thought hopefully.

 

"You _do_ know your way around a boat, don't you, DiNozzo?"

 

"Uh, well…" Tony rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. " _Captains Courageous, Dead Calm, Captain Ron_? Look, I've never sailed a day in my life, but I've been _on_ boats before. I know enough to duck when the boom comes over but I was always more interested in watching the babes in the bikinis than jibbing the mainsail, if you know what I mean. I guess that now that my priorities have changed I'll be keeping an eye on the Rear Admiral instead," Tony said with a leer. "We can sail in circles for all I care."

 

"Oh no." Gibbs gave a grin that promised that Tony would be doing some actual work. "You're not going to be watching this time, Tony. You'll be working, following my commands."

 

Tony wiggled his eyebrows. "You're going to play the black-hearted pirate and I can be the first mate?"

 

Gibbs got in Tony's face with a scowl that any pirate would be proud of.  "No, I'm going to be too busy handling the boat and making sure you don't fall overboard to play games." He leaned in and claimed Tony's mouth in a long, languorous kiss, then pulled back and looked Tony up and down. "I may just have to tie you to the mast to keep you safe."

 

Tony gave a shaky laugh and said, "Wow! Promise?"

 

***–***

 

They returned late in the day, soaked from an afternoon rainstorm that had come up from the south faster than the weatherman had anticipated. Tony was exhausted yet invigorated by all the exercise and fresh salty air. Seeing Gibbs mastering the rough waters, in what had quickly seemed to be a way-too-small and fragile sailboat once they were away from land, had been quite an experience. Gibbs had grinned the entire time, obviously enjoying himself thoroughly, and Tony was happy he'd convinced the man to join him for the weekend. He'd never expected it to turn out like this, full of fun and passion and sheer happiness, the likes of which he couldn’t remember experiencing ever before.

 

Back at the cottage, the two men collapsed side by side on the small couch, with big mugs of coffee and brandy sitting on the low table in front of them, and a blazing fire alight in the fireplace. It was exactly as Tony had imagined. Outside it was getting dark and the wind and rain battered the windows, but they were safe and cozy in what Tony was calling their 'love nest.'

 

Gibbs slipped his arm around Tony's shoulders and pulled him close to place a kiss on his temple. "Thank you," he said quietly.

 

"My pleasure." Tony turned his head and their mouths met in kiss. It was Tony who pulled away, just enough so he could catch his breath, one hand steadying himself on Gibbs' chest – as much to indicate he needed a moment, as to physically keep his distance.

 

"Problem?" Gibbs asked, his tone notable for its patience.

 

"I…it's just that I had a really good time today. Last night, too, and I don't want it to end but–"

 

"But tomorrow we head back," Gibbs said, completing Tony's sentence for him. "I had a good time. The best."

 

Tony met Gibbs' eyes, as unsure as Gibbs was confident. "So now what? What's going to happen, Jethro? Because, I've gotta tell you, I'd really like to do this again sometime but we won't be able to get away again for a while and in the meantime…"

 

Gibbs smiled and ran a hand down the back of Tony's head with long, soothing strokes. "We'll figure it out."

 

"How exactly?" Tony didn't want to press, but on the other hand he needed to hear from Gibbs where this was going. "I mean what do you see us doing?"

 

Gibbs shrugged. "More of this."

 

"Kissing and holding each other and having sex?"

 

"Yeah." Gibbs' smile was brilliant. "Lots of that."

 

"Okay. But do we meet at your house or my place? Are we going to keep this quiet or tell anyone?"

 

Gibbs frowned. "There's someone you need to tell?"

 

"No, no. Not at all." Tony sighed and moved so he was facing Gibbs. "The thing is, I'd rather not. I want to keep this quiet. Like it is now, where everything's between us and only us. It's sorta special, like we're the only people in the world…"

 

"So we focus on us," Gibbs said, ever practical.

 

"Yeah." Tony looked into Gibbs' eyes, trying to figure out what he wanted. "That's what I want but I'll follow your lead, Jethro. Do whatever you want to do."

 

After a long moment assessing Tony, Gibbs nodded. "We'll keep this between us then. If things change then we'll handle any situation as it comes up." He cupped Tony's cheek and smiled lovingly at him. "I never expected this. I wanted it, just never thought…" He made a vague motion with his free hand and Tony caught it and kissed his palm.

 

"Me neither. Guess it took me getting beaten up, nearly sliced into little pieces, for me to see." Tony swallowed and then said, "It took me a while to understand what we had, what was going on between us. I didn't look too far beneath the surface, Jethro, didn't see the real you, and I'm sorry it took me so long. I mean, you were there for me. But then you're _always_ there for me." He watched the flames dancing in the hearth for a while and enjoyed the feeling of Gibbs' arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. "I've found that most of people, even my friends, don't try too hard to really see me. It's a lot less trouble to accept things at face value, but sometimes it feels like they don't _care_ enough to look a bit deeper. But you saw right through me, didn't you? Right from the start."

 

Gibbs pulled Tony's head down to rest on his shoulder. "You're giving me a lot of credit, Tony. I saw something in you right from the start but I didn't see all of you. Not really. Not until…"

 

Tony raised his head and looked expectantly at Gibbs' face. "When?"

 

Gibbs thought about it for a while. "About a year ago. Before Kate was killed. I had a feeling." He shrugged but seemed apologetic. "Didn't want to pry into whatever you were trying so damned hard to cover up, Tony. But after you were sick, after you recovered from the plague…I dunno…something changed." He frowned at Tony as if trying to puzzle it out. "I think we both came out of those bad times sort of…aware of each other." Gibbs' face colored a bit and he rubbed his face as if that would hide the flush.

 

"Attuned," Tony suggested.

 

"Yeah." Gibbs smiled at him, his eyes sparkling with happiness.

 

"So now we're so aware of each other, what's it gonna mean? Where do Tony and Jethro live? Who are their friends? What do they do at the weekends?" Gibbs looked so taken aback that Tony feared he'd overstepped some boundary, but he wanted – needed – to know what the ground rules were before they got in any deeper. "You tell us never to assume, Jethro," Tony said gently.

 

Gibbs nodded. "Okay." He poured some brandy into his coffee and drank the whole mugful before speaking again. "We keep our own places for a while," he said decisively, "but I want you to move in with me right away."

 

Tony was floored by the unexpected invitation. He imagined waking up within Gibbs's arms, making breakfast side by side, heading off to work knowing that they'd be returning home together, celebrating holidays with each other, making decisions together and being partners in every sense of the word – these were visions he'd never dared to imagine as being possible. But living with Gibbs? "Uh…isn't that jumping the gun a bit? I mean, are you sure? In your home?"

 

"Can't see either of us wanting to sleep apart," Gibbs said with a shrug. "And I can't build an Amigo sailboat in your living room, Tony. Won't fit."

 

This was much faster and scarier than he'd expected. "Can I…can I think about it? This is a really big step, Jethro, moving into your home."

 

Gibbs didn't seem surprised or at all put out. "Sure, take some time. I'm not going anywhere. And it's _our_ home."

 

That was enough to make Tony get a bit choked up, and Gibbs taking possession of his hand did nothing to ease the feeling this was all too good to be true. Despite needing to take some time to think this over, Tony had a feeling that it wouldn't be long before he moved in with Gibbs, into their home. He managed to say, "Okay," in a soft voice.

 

"You go out with your friends, with Abby, whatever. But you don't date anyone," Gibbs said almost fiercely.

 

"Except you," Tony agreed.

 

"Oh, so you think we're gonna date, do you?" Gibbs sent a mock-frown Tony's way.

 

"Well yeah. Movies, dinner, boat shows. You know…together…out in public. It's called dating, Jethro," Tony teased.

 

"Dating, huh?" He looked sideways at the younger man and took his hand. "I could do that. But none of this holding hands crap." Tony laughed and Gibbs colored up a bit. "I mean out there. In here is different."

 

Tony knew that they would have to change that rule at some point. "Okay. But I want us to get away now and then, like this. Doesn't have to be anywhere fancy. Just the two of us, somewhere we won't be known." He had a feeling they were both going to need that kind of getaway.

 

Gibbs nodded. "We can do that." He fixed his eyes on Tony and said, "If you want or need something you have to tell me. If I'm not doing enough or doing it right, you tell me. I'm not a mind reader. I don't want to make any mistakes. Besides, I'm sort of out of practice with this kinda stuff."

 

Tony grinned. "You mean with this relationship kinda stuff, Jethro? Or the sex kinda stuff? I guess it's been a long time for you, hasn't it?"

 

"Don't push your luck, Tony. I may be older but I'm wiser. And stronger."

 

Yes, Gibbs was definitely stronger. Tony hugged his lover and said in a low, sexy voice, "That's good because I like it that way. Are we done with all this talk for now? 'Cause now I've got something else in mind." He growled and nipped at Gibbs' jaw.

 

Gibbs nodded as if it was a done deal. "Sex."

 

Tony agreed, "Sex is good." God, it was hard to believe he was talking like this with Gibbs, when just a couple of days ago he never would have even imagined they'd be together. It hit him then that this was _real_ , this was his future, and he embraced it with his entire heart. "You know, there was a line in _Bus Stop_ , 1957, with Marilyn Monroe. When Don Murray – he's a virginal cowboy – is about to kiss her, he says, 'When you kiss someone for serious, it's kinda scary, ain't it?'"

 

"It's scary for you?" asked Gibbs, in an interested sort of way that assured Tony he wasn't making fun of him. It was as if he really wanted to know, as if maybe he felt a little bit scared himself, and was relieved to hear he wasn't the only one who felt that way.

 

"Scary as hell, but I guess that means it's all the more serious. Right?" Tony looked to Gibbs to confirm they were in accord. He needn't have questioned that they were on the same page; Gibbs' smile told him all he needed to know.

 

Gibbs started to kiss Tony with intent, but just as they were getting into it, Tony put his hands on Gibbs' chest and pushed him until he stopped. Tony was panting a bit and felt somewhat dazed, but there was one more thing he had to settle before they went any further.

 

Gibbs sighed. "What now?"

 

Tony squirmed a little. "You know how this couch looks like it's too short to sleep on?"

 

"Mmm. Sort of short for a good make-out session. Let's go upstairs."

 

Tony cringed a little as he spoke. "Hang on, I have to tell you something first. Um, see, it's a convertible couch and it pulls out into a really comfortable bed. I slept on it when I was here before."

 

Gibbs glared at Tony and said in a dangerous tone, "You were going to make me sleep on this damned short couch last night. Without telling me it pulled out. You itchin' for a headslap, DiNozzo?"

 

Tony snuggled close and laughed. "Love you, too, Boss."

 

After a long moment of silence, Gibbs ran his hand up and down Tony's arm, and responded grumpily, "Then stop calling me Boss."

 

"Okay. Love you, too, Jethro."

 

"Hmm." He wrapped his arms around Tony and held him tight.

 

"Does this mean I'm forgiven? 'Cause if I'm not we can try out those leather cuffs of yours as soon as we get home and you can buckle them on my wrists and then tie me down and have your way with me and–"

 

Gibbs loosened his hold enough so he could see Tony's face. "Shut up, Tony."

 

"Shutting up, Jethro. Except…before I shut up, can I say one more thing to you?"

 

Hanging his head, Gibbs sighed. He raised his eyes to meet Tony's and said, "I get the feeling I'm not going to be saying the word 'no' to you very often, Tony."

 

"Probably not," said Tony, with a broad smile. "Thing is, I've realized, after a great deal of thought – in fact, after what is probably way too much introspection – that I am thoroughly, completely, absolutely in love with you, Leroy Jethro Gibbs."

 

Gibbs' reply was to pull Tony off the couch and lead him up the stairs to the bedroom. Without saying a word, he slowly undressed Tony, and then himself, and they lay together on the big bed, and Jethro made love to Tony until they were both totally spent, and then they fell asleep, tangled together in more ways than they could count.

 

***–*** the end ***–***

 

Thanks to everyone who took the time to comment!


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